On returning to his peak state, Xiao Ming assumed the lotus position, his body poised like a statue carved from jade.
The air around him seemed to still, as though the world itself held its breath in anticipation. His mind was a tempest of thoughts, each one sharper than the last, as he prepared to condense his Spirit Qi Sea.
This was the moment he had waited for—the culmination of years of struggle, sacrifice, and unyielding determination.
WHOOSH!
A gust of wind swept past, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming lotuses and the metallic tang of qi.
Xiao Ming's aura shifted, turning chaotic and unpredictable as he began to circulate the Shadowless Spirit Sword Sutra.
The ancient technique thrummed within him, its abstruse meanings unfurling like a scroll in his mind. Each word, each symbol, was a puzzle piece, and Xiao Ming was determined to fit them together.
