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.

was drawn into the thunder sigil’s embrace. Each heartbeat

Thunderbolt seemed transmuted, not a mere artifact but a fabled sphere of

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

“My Sonya, hurry! There is

retort unhesitating, “The timing

thunder, clouds would gather, and the sky would resound with its roars, with lightning promptly descending. Yet, this instance proved unparalleled. Rose’s invocation resounded, yet the Thunderbolt retained its lightning, amassing energy, as if arbitrating the spell’s own

the sigil

obscurity had swollen to a bottomless void—abyssal

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

“It appears so. The Mother of Pu’er stirs. The

ebbed. In the next heartbeat, an imperceptibly

Simultaneously, the inky expanse above churned with unprecedented velocity. Then, a cacophony unfurled—thunderclaps, a network of lightning reminiscent of entwined roots, fracturing

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

drawing ever nearer. Swiftly, Rose took Maria’s hand, ushering her hundreds of meters

the storm’s heart positioned directly above the barren, rain-soaked terrain. A

barrage of detonated

But Maria broke away, heedless of her drenched state, sprinting toward the spot where the Mother of Pu’er had

cried out, “Wait!

undeterred, her steps unwavering as she shouted over the storm, “I sense

to keep her safe, “Who?

her affirmation resolute. “She