Yang Jing slowly brought his practice forms to a halt.
The roiling heat emanating from his body gradually subsided, but a pleasant warmth still lingered in his Dantian.
He raised his right hand, palm open and facing upward. With a mere thought, the Inner Qi in his Dantian was drawn out. It surged forth in fine wisps, eventually converging into a single strand of pale white energy that floated silently above his palm.
The wisp of Inner Qi was clear and pure, without a trace of impurity. It looked like the most lustrous jade, lying dormant and unassuming.
Yet Yang Jing could clearly sense the terrifying power concealed within this seemingly placid stream of energy.
It was like a tightly bound bundle of dynamite—unassuming in ordinary times, but capable of unleashing heaven-shattering power once detonated.
Yang Jing stared at it for a long moment, his eyes filled with awe.
