The years passed in a blink.
A decade had gone by.
On this very day.
In the dense forest of Taiqing Mountain, Chen Jichuan lay prone on the ground, supporting his body with his hands and the tips of his toes. The entire posture resembled a tiger resting, and with each breath, faintly, the sound of a tiger's roar could be heard.
On his back.
A millstone weighing thousands of pounds moved up and down as he inhaled and exhaled, as though it were weightless.
Beside him.
Stood the former Four Great Vajra of Chen Sect—Wang Mingzhang, Lu Qing, Sun Hanjiu, and Zhou Dasheng—each wielding small hammers as they took turns striking Chen Jichuan's chest and ribs.
With every strike.
A booming sound resounded.
His dantian tightened, his chest and ribs expanded, and air sprayed forcefully from his nostrils.
Each instance carried the resonance of a tiger's roar.
