Wooyun slowed his breathing, focusing on the rhythm the book provided, picturing himself not commanding the lightning, but welcoming it, so that he could coax it along the prepared pathways of his body.
The change was immediate. The lightning qi, still wild and sharp, hesitated at the gates of his body—and this time, under his softer control, it trickled in like rain instead of crashing like a wave.
A faint hum vibrated along his bones, the sensation was foreign but exhilarating.
Words appeared again: Despite being a greenhorn, you are doing good. Again.
Wooyun repeated the process, and with every cycle, the electric energy inside him grew slightly more stable, fusing naturally with his qi. The overwhelming pressure eased with each repetition, until eventually, he was no longer forcing his body to adapt—the storm was adapting to him.
