All twelve meridians pulsed in perfect harmony, akin to the beat of war drums rolling beneath his skin.
Quinlan rose.
Muscles flexed beneath his bloodstained robe, the faint sizzle of fire qi whispering just beneath the surface. He rolled his shoulders, exhaled slowly, and took a moment to study his body.
He felt different.
Lighter. Sharper. Stronger.
Every movement flowed without friction, as if the world itself had stopped resisting him. His blood hummed with fire, and his Qi, now bolstered by all twelve core meridians, coursed through him like a rapid stream.
He had crossed the threshold.
From a promising cultivator…
…into a man who stood at the boundary of Core Formation, the stage that separated common cultivators from high rankers in sects and clans.
