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 eye’s blink, the ominous thunder sigil radiated 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 Rose’s grasp, the illumination

a mere artifact but a fabled sphere of lightning seen in

had never witnessed such a spectacle. Instinctively, she apprehended the intensifying luminescence in Rose’s grasp. Unless she intervened, a perilous prospect loomed, Rose might well be endangered by his

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

shook his head, his retort unhesitating, “The timing is

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

essence, it seemed the sigil demanded more

swollen to a bottomless void—abyssal

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

strained to answer, “It appears so. The Mother of Pu’er stirs.

parted from his lips, the Thunderbolt’s brilliance ebbed. In the next heartbeat, an

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 into

the deafening rumbles seemed to amplify, lightning flaring with augmented brilliance and density. As though Rose’s lightning had ignited a

its descent upon Heaven Lake, drawing ever nearer. Swiftly, Rose took Maria’s hand, ushering her

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

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

away, heedless of her drenched state, sprinting toward the

Rose cried out,

was undeterred, her steps unwavering as

her back, urgent to keep her

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