Xiu Luo sits in the center of the room, cross-legged on a woven mat, drawing a steady breath as he begins to channel the qi toward the areas of his body that bear the worst injuries. He envisions the energy as a soft, golden glow, directing it in the spiritual sea. The qi flows like waves, yet no matter how much qi he draws in, the sea remains strangely hollow, refusing to fill.
Frustration begins to rise within him. He intensifies his focus, directing even more qi into the spiritual sea, pushing it forward in powerful surges. But the result is the same—the energy enters, only to dissipate like fading mist, unable to sink into the vastness before him.
He looked at the crack along the edges of his core, preventing Qi from fully integrating. How much he integrated the spiritual qi is the same result. Until it was not healed, it wouldn't be any use how much he cultivated.