Time flowed by, unnoticed.
Fang Han remained seated, motionless.
His eyes moved across the thick booklet, page by page.
He lingered on each page for a long time.
Sometimes he would stare at a certain mantra, his brow slightly furrowed in thought.
Other times, he would gaze at a diagram, his finger tracing invisible lines on his knee, simulating the path of Inner Qi.
And at times, he would close his eyes, as if deducing every detail of the Circulation of the Heavens in his mind.
On the fourth floor, the only sound was the soft rustle of pages turning.
Finally, Fang Han finished the last page.
He closed his eyes and slowly went through the entire Cyan Profound Technique in his mind from beginning to end.
The mantras, the diagrams, the paths for the Circulation of the Heavens—he had memorized everything clearly, without missing a single detail.
He opened his eyes, a hint of unconcealable joy flashing within them.
