For Ling Zhao, this week felt almost like stepping into an entirely different world.
Ever since Grant had been barred from visiting, that faint yet suffocating pressure lingering in the air finally dispersed, and the instability in his soul eased considerably. Taking advantage of this rare calm, Han Ling adjusted Ling Zhao's cultivation method according to his current state—ensuring it wouldn't overly drain his soul power while still allowing him to steadily nurture spiritual energy within the limits of his fragile soul sense.
"Close your eyes first, and use your soul sense to feel for the spiritual energy," Han Ling instructed, his voice slow and steady, like he was guiding a meditation.
Ling Zhao obediently closed his eyes. A faint, cool aura drifted around his soul, rippling like the surface of water disturbed by a gentle breeze.
"Don't listen with your ears, and don't search with your eyes… relax, and let it come to you on its own."
