A Man Like None Other

Chapter 5327

At first, Lyra's own spiritual energy bucked like a wild colt, slamming against the very meridians that had torn open during their cultivation in the tower. Each strike sent a needle of pain along her nerves.

Jared's spiritual energy, by contrast, moved with the seasoned patience of a shepherd guiding restless sheep. He stroked the turbulent streams into tidy order, ushering them along the meridians until their hostility ebbed into calm.

"Here-hold with just a third of your strength," he murmured as the spiritual energy reached her left arm's Elbow Acupoint. "Picture the spiritual energy as a warm jade pestle, gliding across the meridians-press, never pounding."

She obeyed, but a spike of sharp heat shot through the damaged meridian, and cold sweat blossomed across her brow.

That was the very spot where, during the last time in the tower, Lyra had forced herself to contain Jared's Power of Dragons, leaving behind fine cracks.

"Easy. We have time." Jared softened his spiritual energy further, turning it to balm that seeped into the ragged meridian. "Empty your thoughts. Feel the spiritual energy the way spring meltwater feels slipping over stone-slow, clear, inevitable."

Something in the cadence stilled her racing heart. She inhaled, conjuring the image of the scene Jared had described.

Gradually, the stabbing ache in her meridian dulled. Jared's spiritual energy coaxed the raw edges together, scrubbing impurities from her own spiritual energy until every thread grew finer and brighter.

higher, filtering through ancient pines and speckling the jade arcane array with

swirl of spiritual

vanished. Then, without warning, heat blossomed in Lyra's elixir field. New- forged spiritual energy surged along her

flagstones, it rang—a single, crystalline note, as if a jade chime had been struck in the hush. In the very next heartbeat, the droplet shattered, scattering into flecks

"We did it."

relief unfolded across his face.

A cool, effortless clarity washed through her body, sweeping away the restlessness that had plagued her moments

the steel in a seamless current, and

Mr. Chance." She rose and offered him

waved the thanks away.

the beginning. A

Realm cultivator should carry weight as well as grace. Let's go to the back of

Bedrock Strike." s

of blade marks from Sword Sect's disciples. Gusts knifed along its edge, cold and sharp enough to pare thought

from a nearby pine and began to sketch in the cliffside iolite. "Bedrock Strike