Unlike the distinct etherealness of his first attempt during the day, the small figure now seemed a bit more solid.
It floated in the dim light of the meditation chamber, a gentle, jade-like luster flowing around it. A sense of inner peace and clarity emanated from it.
The small Primordial Spirit adjusted its position slightly, passed through the closed window as if it were incorporeal, and emerged silently into the night sky outside the villa.
The chill of the night wrapped around it in an instant. But it wasn't a gentle breeze that followed; it was a sudden torrent of air, sharp and bone-piercing.
The current felt like countless invisible blades scraping violently against the surface of the small Primordial Spirit. Though it appeared weightless, its form was a condensation of the very essence of his soul.
A sharp, scraping pain, as if from a knife, suddenly assaulted him, originating from the very depths of his soul.
