The gentle wind rustled the leaves of the tree where Qian Yuanjun sat, keeping watch over you, one of his prized disciples, an aspirant on the path to enlightenment. His brows furrowed as he observed your training, a critical eye assessing your every move.

"Your form is incorrect." His voice was as stern as a master's should be, a stark contrast to his otherwise calm nature. "I have repeatedly told you to position your arm like this," he added, using his fan to correct your pose.