At first, Lyra’s own spiritual energy bucked like a wild colt, slamming against the very meridians that had torn open during their cultivation in the tower. Each strike sent a needle of pain along nerves.

Jared’s spiritual energy. by contrast, moved with the seasoned patience of a shepherd guiding restless sheep. He stroked the turbulent streams into tidy order, ushering them along the meridians until their hostility ebbed into calm.

“Here, hold with just a third of your strength,” murmured as the spiritual energy reached  left arm’s Elbow Acupoint. “Picture the spiritual energy as a warm jade pestle, gliding across the meridians, press, never pounding.”

She obeyed, but a spike of sharp heat shot through the damaged meridian, and cold sweat blossomed across brow. That was the very spot where, during the last time in the tower, Lyra had forced herself to contain Jared’s Power of Dragons, leaving behind fine cracks.

“Easy… We have time,” Jared softened his spiritual energy further, turning it to balm that seeped into the ragged meridian. “Empty your thoughts. Feel the spiritual energy the way spring meltwater feels slipping over stone, slow, clear, inevitable…”

Something in the cadence stilled racing heart. She inhaled, conjuring the image of the scene Jared had described.

Gradually, the stabbing ache in meridian dulled. Jared’s spiritual energy coaxed the raw edges together. scrubbing Impurities from own spiritual energy until every thread grew finer and brighter.