In the dark room.
Dozens of white candles quietly burned, casting flickering shadows on the walls, like living creatures writhing.
Wisps of gray mist seeped in from unknown places.
Like tiny snakes with life, silently coiling around the candle flames, yet daring not to come too close.
The halo seemed to be the only refuge in this darkness.
At the center of the candle circle, Jia Sangyi sat cross-legged, with his eyes tightly shut.
The red crescent mark on his forehead was emitting an eerie glow, flickering unpredictably.
Tiny beads of sweat seeped from the corner of his forehead, sliding down his thin face, but he remained unaware.
This Yoga Master was obviously at a very critical moment.
His breath was so deep it seemed to nearly stop.
The surrounding air emitted a low hum, like countless cicada wings vibrating at high speed.
The CD player on the floor beside him still played white noise before a storm.
