The third rotation linked the first two.
Steps turned to spirals, spirals to sweeps, each one tugging the Ki further into alignment with the diagram in the manual.
This was the grind — looping the movements again and again, shaping the flow so it no longer slipped away at the edges.
The sensation was like dragging molten silk — too fast and it would burn; too slow and it would sputter.
The hours blurred.
Every motion of Ki through the veins left him drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from the strain of precision.
When the current wavered, he stopped, rested, and tried again.
The process was maddeningly delicate — any misalignment could warp the entire network.
When his breath faltered, he let the dragon form take over.
Scales rippled over his skin, catching the dim light like molten bronze.
In this shape, the furnace in his core roared hotter, and the Ki burned through the channels more forcefully.
