Bestowing a Fire Totem upon the American Bison specimen.
The syllables of the Spell were low and mysterious. They echoed one after another through the somewhat empty hangar, as if they carried a magical power capable of traversing the river of time to connect with a mystical force from ages past.
The next moment, a faint breeze inexplicably stirred within the silent hangar.
The breeze brushed gently past. Snowflakes that had just drifted in from outside, not yet having had a chance to melt, were caught in its current. As if instantly given life, they danced like nimble Elves, swirling lightly around Feng Mountain and the bison specimen.
The flakes twirled in the air, sometimes drawing near, sometimes retreating, forming a magical tableau.
Meanwhile, Jeff, who was standing outside the hangar, suddenly felt an indescribable palpitation in his heart.
It felt as though something deep within him was slowly awakening.
