Minutes passed, and Xiao Ming finally halted his relentless extraction of toxins, cutting off the flow of dao qi.
He actually needed to rest, even if it was only for a short while, so that he could recover some of his depleted spiritual energy.
The process had been taxing, far more than he had anticipated, and he felt his own energy reserves beginning to wane.
His brows dripped with sweat, and his hands, which had been glowing with ethereal light from the channeling of his dao qi, slowly dimmed as he took a moment to breathe.
Xue Mao, the ever-vigilant snow cat, observed Xiao Ming carefully, his eyes narrowing with concern.
But even as Xiao Ming caught his breath, his spirit consciousness never wavered from observing the disciple's condition.
