The Charismatic Charlie Wade

Maria’s words ignited a spark within Rose as well!

He found himself captivated by the many coincidences unfolding before him.

How had this mysterious dark cloud suddenly descended, casting an eerie shroud over them all?

Why did the dark cloud reflect the unsettling image of quivering hexagrams?

Why did it lack the usual accompaniment of thunder and lightning?

And why had it chosen to manifest exactly where the Mother of Pu’er had faced her tragic failure?

Moreover, he had just harnessed the lightning-scarred wood born from the Mother’s failed tribulation, birthing an entirely new thunderous power. A confluence of enigmatic elements left him grappling for answers, and only Maria’s conjecture provided a solution that could reconcile all uncertainties.

With this realization unfurling within, Rose blurted out resolutely, “Then, I shall beckon forth a tempest for the brooding skies!”

Maria’s enthusiastic nod was laden with anticipation as she proclaimed, “The Mother of Pu’er and the loyal servant stand beside. A favorable chance beckons, and God watches over. Your efforts are abetted!”

Drawing forth the Thunderbolt, Rose held it in his palm, his gaze steadfast upon the deepening, thickening black cloud overhead. With a breath that concealed the suppressed aura, he invoked the incantation in his heart.

And then, with unswerving determination, Rose cried out, “Let thunder strike forth!”

From his very being surged chi that coursed through the eight extraordinary meridians, torrentially surging into the Thunderbolt clasped in his hand.

an inner brilliance, its luster permeating outward. Most of Rose’s internal aura was drawn into the thunder sigil’s embrace. Each heartbeat reverberated through

not a mere artifact but a

Rose’s grasp. Unless she intervened, a perilous prospect loomed, Rose might well be endangered by his

cried out on impulse, “My Sonya, hurry! There is no time to

retort unhesitating, “The timing is

lightning promptly descending. Yet, this instance proved unparalleled. Rose’s invocation resounded, yet the Thunderbolt retained

seemed the

the sky’s obscurity had swollen to a bottomless

evident, questioned, “Is this Thunderbolt’s master no longer the Young

where radiance still intensified, and strained to answer, “It appears so. The Mother of Pu’er stirs. The Thunderbolt, a fragment of her

lips, the Thunderbolt’s brilliance ebbed. In the next heartbeat, an imperceptibly potent energy burst forth

inexplicable hollowness seized Mandra, his Reiki dissipating in a crescendo. Simultaneously, the inky expanse above churned with unprecedented velocity. Then, a cacophony unfurled—thunderclaps, a network of lightning reminiscent of entwined roots, fracturing the

flaring with augmented brilliance and density. As though Rose’s lightning had ignited a performance, the celestial

drawing ever nearer. Swiftly,

positioned directly above the barren, rain-soaked terrain. A bolt, massive as a bowl, descended from

if daylight materialized, thunder exploding like a barrage of detonated explosives. Simultaneously, torrents poured from the sky, a deluge from the

bone, Rose and Maria hurriedly retreated. But Maria broke away, heedless of her

cried out,

as she shouted over the storm, “I

back, urgent to keep

trembled, her affirmation resolute. “She is here! I think she is