In the hushed stillness of the morning, the world awakened to the soft caress of the rising sun. Shafts of golden light pierced through the gaps in the bamboo forest, casting ethereal patterns upon the grounds of the outer sect. It was a moment of tranquility, a fleeting calm before the storm.
Within the confines of his quarters, Michael, bathed in the gentle glow, sat cross-legged on a mat of woven straw. His eyes, filled with unwavering determination, glistened with an inner fire, as if a dormant beast had stirred within him.
Before him lay a collection of low-tier spirit stones, their vibrant hues capturing the essence of the elements. Their energy pulsed and beckoned, promising the power necessary for his breakthrough. With a steady hand, he picked up a stone and held it close to his Dantian.
