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What do you mean I'm a cultivator? - Chapter 57
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... ples travel on its surface.
There was no technique behind it. No cultivation art guiding his movements. Only intuition. Cheng moved his hands through the still air of the chamber, shifting fingers, forming crude shapes. A circle. A line. A spiral. Each gesture tugged at the surrounding Qi, and though it responded with sluggish reluctance, it did respond.
The connection to the wood chunk had not vanished. Even now, buried in his robe, it pulsed faintly. Not with heat or light, but ...
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