The night after the tribulation carried a silence so sharp it seemed to slice the air.
Tian Shen sat cross-legged in the depths of the Feilun Sect's secluded cultivation chamber. His robes clung to his body, still scorched at the hems from lightning's kiss, while the room's stone walls trembled faintly beneath the oppressive pressure that leaked from his core.
The Utopian Core pulsed like a second heart, too vast and too feral to be contained by flesh. Every breath threatened to rip him apart from the inside.
"—Hhh."
Tian Shen exhaled sharply, sweat streaming down his jaw, glistening in the dim lamplight. His dantian was no longer the quiet, rotating pool of spiritual essence he had known. It had become a storm—chaotic streams of refined qi surging in violent spirals, tearing at his meridians like rivers breaking their banks.
His hands trembled against his knees. Even the bones beneath his skin creaked with strain.
