Meanwhile outside the barrier, up in the sky. The air in Fang Lian's lungs was fire.
Her meridians screamed in protest, a raw, scraping agony as her Qi threatened to buckle under the immense demand.
Every instinct for self-preservation shrieked at her to stop, to let the gathered light dissipate before it consumed her from the inside out.
But an even deeper instinct, roared louder.
KEEP AT IT!
And in that very instant, a memory surfaced vivid flash behind her eyes.
Suddenly she was back at the eastern courtyard. The courtyard was bathed in a cool, silver light from the moonlight.
And there she was, Fang Lian, her head barely reaching her master's shoulder, stared up at the sky, her mouth agape.
Fang Yuan standing beside her had his hand outstretched.
Above them, six structures of blinding white energy hung, a five-pointed star, sharp and precise, humming with terrifying power.
"Tyrant Light Sword—Second Form: Star Form," Fang Yuan intoned, his voice steady, almost serene.
