Night had already completely fallen over the Verdant Sword Sect, and only the distant sound of the cutting wind crossed the giant trees. Kyrian was sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by the eight ancient books.
There was no haste. Nor anxiety. Only the same cold and absolute concentration that he applied to everything.
He picked up a new jade plate, smooth and cold to the touch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, mentally going over every line, every connection, and every point of balance he had learned in the manuals. The ancient language was no longer a mystery, it was a tool.
Kyrian released his Qi slowly. The sword Qi, sharp and precise, flowed into the plate like an invisible blade, engraving runes. Thin lines began to form on the surface of the jade, glowing with a faint greenish tone. He controlled each stroke with millimetric precision, adjusting the intensity of the Qi to avoid overload.
It was the next attempt after the previous failure.
