Asher's training continued as he decided to forget about the system and its words of encouragement altogether. His mind was now wholly focused on the attacks the clone sent towards him, every ounce of attention sharpened to a razor's edge, but although he had chosen to forget about the system's words, their effect was definitely showing, as Asher's training speed seemed to become even more ridiculous, as though he was unconsciously tapping into some hidden reserve of potential buried deep within him.
At this moment, the clone shot ten light swords towards him with far greater speed than before, each blade streaking through the air like condensed beams of dawn. Asher simply shifted all of them to the side in various directions with casual precision, each attack dodging him as though he were a plague they instinctively avoided, their trajectories bending unnaturally away from his body without him even taking a single step.
