"Those interested in advancing their Formation Master profession, take note," Lu Yang announced, tapping one of the brushes with a deft flick of his wrist. "Gold Tailed Horse Whisk brushes are best for promoting a steady flow of qi and enhancing infusion."
As he spoke, the crooked brown paintbrush lifted gracefully into the air, defying gravity for a moment. Lu Yang pressed his fingers together, then pointed in the four cardinal directions, each motion precise and deliberate. The air around him seemed to vibrate with energy, and Feng Li, along with the other disciples, felt a shiver run through them as their internal qi pathways came to an abrupt halt. It was as if the very air was charged with an electric tension.
After a moment, Lu Yang closed his eyes and began murmuring a series of ancient words that echoed through the clearing. The sounds, though foreign, resonated with an unsettling familiarity, like an incantation pulled from the depths of a forgotten time.
