The rift suddenly shuddered. A low, guttural hum reverberated through the clearing, deep enough to rattle the ground beneath Zhao Li Xin's feet.
The fractures in the air pulsed like veins of black lightning, spreading farther, faster, until the very sky above the bamboo grove dimmed.
A sudden gust tore through the clearing. Howling like a chorus of restless spirits, pulling Zhao Li Xin's robes and tugging his long hair toward the widening rift. The pressure thickened, crushing down from all directions, a suffocating weight of raw, untamed power.
The fire spirit flinched back, its flickering form trembling uncontrollably. [Master! It's unstable!]
But Zhao Li Xin remained unmoving, his expression as calm as still water. Both of his hands were now buried past the wrist in the jagged void, his fingers curling with unyielding precision.
