The inverted ripples of the Li River abruptly froze on his retinas.
The woman's movement, forming a blade with her fingers, was deconstructed into seven hundred and twenty frames, the trajectory of the Sword Qi tearing through the air rendered in minute detail.
Xu Yunfan unconsciously placed his right palm over his chest, feeling the Pure Yang Inner Breath roiling beneath his skin, vibrating with some ancient rhythm. Every inch of his muscle and sinew resonated with a chorus like a Brahma Sound.
The syllables rolling from his throat resonated with the very world around him.
His vital energy and blood, once boiling like lava, suddenly froze. The knotted muscles of his back smoothed out like a receding tide, and his bulging veins transformed into faint blue-green patterns beneath his skin.
