A shield appeared around Qin Fengming, naturally drawing the attention of the other cultivators in the hall—but only those nearby.
The appearance of this shield made not the slightest sound, as though it had materialized out of thin air.
Not the slightest surge of powerful energy rippled through the space, nor did any pressure reveal itself. Everything seemed utterly calm.
Qin Fengming, enveloped in dazzling radiance, was completely unaware of the whispered transmissions from several Yellow Springs Palace cultivators in the distance. His mind had already sunk entirely into the countless incantations surrounding him.
At that moment, Qin Fengming seemed to have entered a strange environment. Seven-colored clouds drifted around him, and within them, an astonishing number of incantations darted and wove through the mist.
The incantations were like swimming fish—seemingly within easy reach, yet slippery as eels. They wove through the clouds, some swift as lightning, others like fish swimming across a shallow stream.
As he watched the incantations before him, a strange feeling rose spontaneously within him.
Sitting cross-legged amid them, Qin Fengming's eyes were slightly closed. His hands unconsciously began slowly forming incantation gestures without pause. As his hands continued to dance, rune after rune appeared.
Those runes possessed not the slightest offensive power. As they appeared, the incantations within the clouds seemed to have been startled and became violently agitated. Yet once the runes entered the clouds, the incantations were like a startled flock of sheep suddenly seeing a shepherd's dog, immediately growing quiet.
At first, they still did their utmost to evade the slowly drifting runes. But after only a short while, the incantations were like lost tadpoles finally finding their mother, beginning to gather around the runes. Some especially bold incantations even clung to the runes.
The most fundamental form of an incantation was