Victor was genuinely frustrated.
For days, he'd been sitting down, closing his eyes, organizing his energy, stabilizing his three Dantians, circulating mana, blood, nature, and draconic energy throughout his body, and trying to follow every line of that damned manual. The problem was always the same. He understood the theory. He understood it almost too well. He knew what an internal world was supposed to do, how it should function, and which principles sustained its existence. Even so, whenever he tried to give it form, nothing appeared. Not even a foundation. Not an empty space. Not an incomplete draft. It was as though everything else within him obeyed his will except for that.
