Two days passed in quiet discipline.
The world around the Sanatan Flame Sect had softened — skies clearer, winds calmer, the sea whispering like a living lullaby.
The formation Shaurya had set glowed faintly even now, its orange threads of light pulsing like the heartbeats of the land itself.
Inside that calm, the sect grew stronger.
Breakthroughs and Quiet Pride
A burst of spiritual light rippled across the camp that morning — waves of pressure rolling like warm thunder through the sand.
Wang Tian sat cross-legged near the waterline, body surrounded by a golden-red aura. His expression was fierce, yet composed.
A final breath escaped his lips, and with it — a shockwave.
Crack!
The air around him shifted; his spiritual energy surged upward like a geyser of molten qi.
Elder Wan opened his eyes, watching from a distance, a faint smile playing across his lips.
"Another step forward," he murmured. "Nascent Soul — Level Two."
