Cyan Mountain Daoist Temple, beneath an ancient pine tree.
Qi Yun sat cross-legged, his eyes gently closed and his expression serene. The corners of his Deep Blue Daoist Robe remained perfectly still in the faint breeze.
There were no earth-shattering vortexes of Spiritual Mechanism around him, nor was there any dazzling radiance of Magical Power.
Only wisps of an aura, as gentle as a spring breeze in the woods, slowly expanded and contracted with his long, deep breaths.
With each exhale, the aura radiated outward, rustling like a clear wind through pine needles, as if measuring Heaven and Earth and embracing all of creation.
With each inhale, the aura retracted, like a great whale swallowing the sea. It drew in all the pure Spiritual Mechanism from his surroundings, which was steeped in Dao Rhyme, along with the stray threads of Primordial Daoist Intent drifting between Heaven and Earth.
