The man in question didn't utter a word. He sat back in his chair, a hand holding his head in place as he observed his disciple. His inky eyes roamed his face, taking every inch of him in, before making their way down his body.
He was wearing a fresh set of robes that fit his body to perfection. There wasn't a single hair out of place, but Junghwa could tell something was off with him. His disciple looked tired, like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep. His brows furrowed.
"How are you feeling?" Junghwa finally asked, after a long, excruciating minute of silence.
"I'm a little tired," he admitted, not wishing to lie. "But otherwise good."
This much was the truth. After meditating for several hours, his body was adjusting to the new techniques he'd learned. Though he couldn't bring forth the white blossoms as easily as his master, he was getting there. He also felt stronger, lighter, and his senses were sharper now. He was growing increasingly accustomed to his new body.
