Xu Wuyi set down his backpack and walked to the window.
From here, he had a clear view of the deep tarn.
The sun was setting in the west, and its lingering glow cast a shimmering, golden-red light across the tarn's surface. The water remained calm, but a closer look revealed a faint undercurrent slowly swirling in its depths.
"Static Water, deep flow..." Xu Wuyi repeated softly.
He sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes.
In his sea of consciousness, the great, dark-golden marsh breathed slowly, faintly resonating with the rhythm of the tarn outside the window.
For the next few days, Xu Wuyi's life fell into a simple, disciplined routine.
Every morning at five, before the sky had lightened, he would go to the tarn's edge, sit cross-legged on a smooth rock, and begin his silent Visualization.
The morning air in the Northern Lands was bone-chilling, and his every breath instantly condensed into a white mist.
