The Nine-Petaled Soul Calming Flame slowly drifted up from the depths, emerging above the lake surface like a newborn star. The moment it appeared, the temperature surged violently. Silverlake began to boil—bubbles rising in thick clusters as if the entire lake were trying to escape the heat.
All the fire-attributed lotuses scattered across the water trembled at once. Their petals quivered like living things, hopping and spinning with what seemed like raw, instinctive joy, as though they were greeting their king.
A wave of vitality exploded outward.
Wang Chen felt it hit first—a dense, intoxicating surge that poured straight into his bones, making his limbs feel weightless. Even Rong Lua, pale and armless, gasped as the wild surge washed over him. Before their eyes, his severed tendons writhed, muscles contracting and twisting like snakes seeking reunion. It almost looked as if Rong Lua's arms were about to regrow right then and there.
