The night sky above the Deadroot's far edge was black and blistered with stars, yet down in the hollowed earth where Kaelen and Kelvin sat cross-legged inside a crude circle of spirit-forged stone, the only light came from the faint, eerie glimmer rising from the pulsating formation beneath them—the Third Qi Juggernaut: Ghost of the Vein.
Their breath steamed in the cool air, torsos bare and slick with sweat, limbs shaking from exertion. Their skin was marked with Qi scars—burnt calligraphy across their arms and backs, carved from pain, trial, and will.
The Ghost of the Vein wasn't like the other two. The First Juggernaut—Root of the Earth—was pure agony, a test of body through which they'd clawed their way with gritted teeth and fire-filled blood. The Second Juggernaut—Pulse of the Hollow—was the mastery of movement and grounding, of pressure against pain while in sync with some complex breathing techniques.
But the Third…
It was intangible.
It whispered.
