He rolled his shoulders once, the weight of exhaustion settling into something sharper—focus. The Inner Courtyard's air was dense with spiritual energy, faintly scented with herbs and ash. It pressed down gently on his senses, urging stillness and precision.
Before him floated a single cauldron—standard sect-issue, engraved with plain refining sigils. Nothing rare, nothing ancient. Just a proper tool for discipline and persistence.
Tian Lei sat cross-legged and let out a slow breath. With a quiet thought, his Heaven-Purifying Fire came to life. The silver-white flame burned clean and steady, its light soft yet unwavering. The air around him rippled faintly as he stabilized its temperature, letting his mind fall into rhythm with the flicker.
Then he began.
