He stood where the mountains whispered. His sword remained sheathed — not from weakness, but from a strength that no longer needed to scream.
In the silence of his stance, a thousand battles were already won.
This is not an image. It’s a vow.
He stood where the mountains whispered. His sword remained sheathed — not from weakness, but from a strength that no longer needed to scream.
In the silence of his stance, a thousand battles were already won.
This is not an image. It’s a vow.
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