The spiritual energy in the Dantian is like a blocked water pipe. No matter how hard I try, I can't get over the threshold.
I was standing on the stage for the outer sect examination. Opposite me was a junior sister who had only started for half a year. She was holding a talisman in her hand, and her hands were shaking with nervousness. The audience was full of outer disciples. Some were yawning, some were nibbling melon seeds, and some were taking out photo stones to record. After all, watching me, a good-for-nothing, get beaten was their biggest pleasure every month.
"Senior Brother Shen Yan, please, please give me some advice." The younger junior sister saluted, her voice as soft as a rabbit.
Before I could reply, my stomach suddenly turned upside down.
Broken.
The bowl of multigrain porridge I had this morning was bought from a street stall. The old porridge seller patted his chest and said it was guaranteed to be fresh. Now it seems that there is definitely something wrong with that bowl of porridge, because it is fermenting crazily in my intestines, as if it is going to rebel.
Junior sister's talisman has already flown over, and a ball of flames exploded in the air. It was not very powerful, but it was enough to knock me, the "number one loser of Tianxuan Sect," off the stage.
I stepped aside, the gas in my stomach rising to my throat.
