It was Sunday morning. Lou Cheng stood still beside Weishui Lake with his eyes closed. His body was undulating like water ripples in a near indiscernible manner.
The surrounding winds sounded very soft. They were joined with the coldness, wetness, and freshness from last night's heavy rain, and they made everything appear incredibly peaceful and tranquil.
It was at this moment Lou Cheng moved his left leg inwards, flicked his waist and punched out with his right fist as if he was holding an invisible club.
Pa!
The fist struck thin air, and the quiet wind abruptly burst into waves of rippling wails. Compared to before, they were now tainted with bone-chilling coldness. A translucent glow appeared out of nowhere, covering the ground in a meter's radius with a sheet of thin, silver frost. The further out the ice spread, the smoother they appeared.
