Ever since her master, the Blood-Lettered Divine Monarch, had transmitted techniques to her through his mind, Balofi had been in a daze, sleeping soundly for a whole day.
Her memory told her that after each transmission in these past few years, this always happened. It was because her cultivation level was too low to bear the transmission of techniques through her master's divine thought.
She fell asleep dreamily, each dream filled with snippets of her time with her master over the years. It felt like a dream, yet also like a hazy memory of the past years.
The image of her master in her memory gradually sharpened from blurred to clear.
His calm, Confucian-style elegance, the occasional faint, spring-breeze-like smiles that were only directed at her;
The scholar's robe worn for decades without change;
And the Blood Jade Book he never let out of his hands.
All became so clear, ingrained in her bone marrow and deeply imprinted in her soul. It was heart-wrenching.
