The white dragon lightly brushed over the "Iron Pine" in the courtyard, the rustling sound of metal and stone like copper bells.
As he inhaled, the leaves of the Iron Pine nearly uprooted, pointing at a ninety-degree angle towards Meng Chuan.
Exhale...
The strong wind dissipated, and the curled leaves, like iron sheets, were flattened. They immediately turned 180 degrees, dodging to the furthest point away from Meng Chuan, with the leaves straight like swords.
In the cycle of breathing, the sky in the small courtyard alternated between light and dark, like night rain under a lantern.
Pacing and breathing, deeply experiencing.
Meng Chuan bent down, his arms raised and rested on the ground, with limbs on the ground and back to the sky.
Stretching his neck high, resembling... no need to say more.
