And so, the wheel of fate began its quiet revolution.
Days cascaded like grains of glowing sand—each moment on Harmony Heaven Peak carrying the subtle weight of destiny. The mountain itself seemed to hum with anticipation, its ley lines pulsing in sync with a rhythm older than memory.
Tian Lei continued to cultivate in silence, though silence was a relative term here. The hum of formations surrounded him at all hours—runic flows whispering from the stones, threads of resonance weaving through the wind. To any ordinary disciple, it would have been maddening. But to him, it was music.
Each night, the jade pendant at his chest flickered faintly, reacting to something beneath the surface. The more he refined his arrays, the more frequently it responded, as though urging him deeper—beckoning him toward the heart of the mountain.
