Sylren narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze on Alina's spirit body.
The originally solid figure had become faint, like mist under sunlight. The edges flickered, and even the aura it emitted was unstable.
A trace of understanding surfaced in his mind, followed by cold delight.
"So that's how it is…"
He sneered inwardly.
"After all, she isn't a pure White March. The bloodline secret art is flawed. The spirit body is bound to the fluctuations of the main body's aura."
"In a true White March, the spirit clone could exist independently for a long time. But this woman's cultivation is suppressed, her aura unstable. Naturally, the spirit body can't last."
A smile spread across Sylren's face.
He had found her weakness.
Turning his head slightly, he transmitted his thoughts to his sister.
"Little sister, stop holding back. Her spirit body is imperfect. As her main body weakens, the spirit body will collapse even faster."
"So that's it?" Verelia's lips curled upward.
