The seventh day, the eighth day, the ninth day.
The threshold was now so thin it was almost nonexistent.
The tenth day.
Inside the Quiet Chamber, sandalwood smoke curled in the air.
Fang Han sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, his eyes slightly closed. The aura around him was as still as water.
The technique for the Thousand-Mile Soul Lock flowed through his mind. A mysterious energy circulated between his nasal passages and meridians, each cycle smoother and more harmonious than the last.
Suddenly—
HUMMM...
A faint hum that only he could perceive resonated from deep within his body.
The sound was so faint it was nearly imperceptible, yet it seemed to have opened an invisible door.
In that instant, his world of perception underwent a world-shaking transformation.
The auras that were already clear and discernible now became even more layered, more detailed, and more microscopic in their precision.
