That night, Wooyun went back to cultivating after ingesting the adamantine root pill as instructed by Eun-woo.
The bitter tang of it lingered on his tongue, metallic and sharp, like the taste of biting into iron. He settled into position, breathing slowly, steadying the flow of qi within him as he focused on the Earth element. He tried to anchor his consciousness to it, to sink into the grounded stillness the element demanded. But each time he approached, the sensation slipped from his grasp, like sand running through his fingers. His qi trembled with agitation instead of rooting down, and sweat began to bead at his brow.
Why are you being so difficult?
