At the break of dawn, the sky has yet to brighten.
The shores of Yulong Lake are shrouded in a heavy, blue-gray morning mist, like an ink wash painting that has begun to bleed.
The early summer morning still carries a refreshing coolness.
The water vapor on the lake's surface lingers and, with the faint morning breeze, carries the scent of water plants to the depths of the forest on the shore.
A few early-rising birds flutter their wings on the branches, chirping a few crisp notes before disappearing into the tranquil woods.
Fang Cheng stands quietly on a flat clearing in the forest.
His feet apart, shoulder-width, with his back straight as a pine tree, his whole being seems to merge with the surrounding grass, trees, and the morning mist.
At the same time, his breathing is long and deep, his chest and abdomen rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern as he practices his Inner Breath.
