The laughter around him gradually became sparse and eventually turned into silence.
The disciples dispersed in twos and threes, leaving Lu Chuan standing alone.
He lowered his head and spread his hands.
A simple talisman lay quietly in his palm.
The texture of the talisman paper is rough, with natural burrs on the edges, but the runes drawn on it with silver-purple cinnabar are extremely mysterious, and each stroke seems to contain the principle of the birth and death of thunder.
A faint arc of electricity danced on the runes, making an inaudible crackling sound.
The air was filled with a strange smell of burnt earth mixed with rain.
This is not an illusion.
The warm touch coming from his fingertips, and the energy so majestic that it made his heart tremble, all declared its reality.
Lu Chuan's fingers trembled slightly.
He slowly gathered his five fingers and held the talisman tightly.
A strange warm current seeped out from the talisman, followed his skin, penetrated into his flesh and blood, and finally reached the long-dead heart.
