Kong Xiang sat cross legged in a meditative pose on the bed, facing the window from which moonlight was streaking in.
It was night time, and Kong Xiang was attempting to circulate the Rakshasa Devil Art.
A mini qi cyclone formed around him as faint blood marks appeared on the surface of Kong Xiang's skin, squirming as they morphed into nondescript characters.
However, no matter how hard Kong Xiang tried, the qi he absorbed dispersed as soon he drew them along the circulatory route of the Rakshasa Devil Art.
Kong Xiang opened his eyes and let out a mouthful of turbid air, frustrated. The blood marks faded as soon as he stopped cultivating.
