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 reverberated

artifact but a fabled sphere of

Instinctively, she apprehended the intensifying luminescence in Rose’s grasp. Unless she intervened, a perilous prospect

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

head, his retort unhesitating,

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

it seemed the sigil

sky’s obscurity had swollen to a bottomless

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

“It appears so. The Mother of Pu’er

Thunderbolt’s brilliance ebbed. In the next heartbeat, an imperceptibly potent

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 cloud

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

cloud commenced its descent upon Heaven Lake, drawing ever

halted, the storm’s heart positioned directly above the barren, rain-soaked terrain. A bolt, massive as a bowl,

an instant, it was as if daylight materialized, thunder exploding like a barrage of detonated

Maria hurriedly retreated. But Maria broke away, heedless of her drenched state, sprinting

Rose cried out, “Wait!

as she

hold her back, urgent to keep her safe, “Who?

Maria’s voice trembled, her affirmation resolute. “She is here! I