Lucas said nothing. He didn't spare the Master Cultivators another glance, nor did he respond to Commander Alexander's orders. His feet carried him with growing certainty to the very edge of the wall. The wind tore at his hair and clothes, flinging strands across his face and whipping the hem of his robe like a wild flame, but he stood still, immovable. His hands were at his sides, fingers twitching slightly, pulsing with the storm that was beginning to ripple through his entire body. The energy within him roared for release, and with every passing second it grew more unstable, more uncontainable.