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- Your movements flow as water and your purpose fills you with utter assurance of victory. You care not. Every movement is perfect and every breath is flawless. No thought fills your mind. Every step is absolute and every swing is immaculate. It matters not. You practice your art both in the void of your mind and in the real world, and your movements gain an impossible grace to them that begins to surpass mortal martial artists. To you it is sloppy and utterly wasteful; why did you make your style so flashy and theatrical in the first place? Because it was fun? Does fun matter in a battle for one's life? You do not know. Something deep within you aches
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