For hours, the silent, agonizing forge continued inside the sealed courtyard.
The sheer intensity of the restructuring forced a thick, dark mist of vaporized impurities to seep out of his pores, only for it to be instantly obliterated by the stray sparks of pink and black lightning dancing across his skin.
Finally, the violent torrent of celestial energy began to recede.
The raging currents of lightning slowly trickled back down his pathways, returning to the dantian where they quietly coiled themselves around the massive base of his 108-meter altar, settling into a state of watchful dormancy.
The agonizing heat faded, replaced by an overwhelming, intoxicating wave of absolute clarity and rejuvenation.
Shen Yu slowly exhaled, a long, thin stream of gray, stagnant air shooting out of his mouth like a condensed arrow, traveling several meters through the air before dissipating into nothingness.
