Shen Le casually dragged over a cushion and sat cross-legged in front of the ceramic urn. After thinking for a moment, he stood up again and kicked the cushion aside.
He backed up two steps, assumed a stance, and held his hands one in front of the other, one upright and one reversed:
This time, making contact with the golden light might not be something he could handle with mental power alone. He might need to move his body as well—
If he had to perform sword techniques, the delay of jumping up from the cushion would probably be enough to get him killed!
Shen Le recalled the martial techniques he had learned from the gilded clay tablet—especially the true intent of that thread drawn to the utmost restraint, only to erupt with the utmost sharpness in an instant.
Gradually, his entire aura began to change, from unmatched sharpness to utter ordinariness, until he seemed as though he did not exist at all.
Gradually, a wisp of mental power quietly extended outward. Carrying the plainness and restraint he had just comprehended, it cautiously entered the Storage Box, entered the ceramic urn, and touched the golden light within:
Closer. Into the urn. One foot, half a foot, three inches, one inch—
The golden light suddenly surged!
Compared with last time, it had indeed reacted much later. Clearly, after training with the gilded clay tablet and comprehending its artistic conception, he could approach much closer before disturbing this mass of golden light.
But there was a limit to how close he could get. When he reached a distance of one inch, the golden light abruptly sprang up. It was far sharper than when it had blocked him before—far more vicious, even!
The golden light condensed and slashed down. That inch-long gleam exerted