"Shen Yi... that traitor..."
The wisp of thought, so weak it was on the verge of dissipating, pierced fiercely into the depths of Qi Yun's heart and spirit like a red-hot iron needle. His pupils slightly constricted, but his expression remained impassive. He simply hovered quietly in the void, allowing the residual thought to drift down like a withered leaf and rest upon his palm.
A grayish-white halo flickered faintly like a candle in the wind, threatening to extinguish at any moment. Yet, the Daoist Intent contained within was like a dormant volcano—dead on the surface, but churning with terrifying power capable of boiling seas and burning the heavens.
Qi Yun looked down at the residual thought in his hand. Iridescent light swirled in his eyes as he fully circulated the Dao of the Primordial, forming a massive, intangible, yet omnipresent net that firmly enveloped the thought. He was in no rush to refine it, nor did he attempt to seal it. He merely watched it in silence.
