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.

Rose’s internal aura was drawn into the thunder sigil’s embrace. Each heartbeat reverberated through Rose’s grasp, the illumination growing more

a mere artifact but a fabled sphere of

Rose’s grasp. Unless she intervened, a perilous prospect loomed, Rose

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

retort unhesitating, “The timing

when Rose invoked thunder, clouds would gather, and the sky would resound with its roars, with lightning promptly descending. Yet, this instance

seemed the sigil demanded

sky’s obscurity had swollen

her disquiet evident, questioned, “Is this

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

his lips, the Thunderbolt’s brilliance ebbed. In the next heartbeat, an imperceptibly potent energy burst forth from it, hurtling toward

expanse above churned with unprecedented velocity. Then, a cacophony unfurled—thunderclaps, a network

brilliance and density. As though Rose’s lightning had ignited

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

directly above the barren, rain-soaked terrain. A bolt, massive

as if daylight materialized, thunder exploding like a barrage of detonated explosives. Simultaneously, torrents poured

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

cried out, “Wait!

was undeterred, her steps unwavering as she shouted over the

urgent to keep her safe, “Who?

resolute. “She is