“Weak Water…”
Grace’s gaze fell upon the vast, deceptively calm lake before her. The deep blue waters shimmered faintly, yet there was something unnerving about them—as if they could swallow not just light, but sound and hope as well. Even standing at the shore, she could sense the strange, oppressive laws woven into the water. Her brows knitted together.
The legends were true—a feather cannot float, and even a bird cannot fly across it.
Though Grace’s cultivation was strong, she could already tell that keeping the Weak Water at bay for long would be nearly impossible.
Logan stepped forward, kneeling by the water’s edge. A soft hum of energy formed at his fingertip as he gathered a trace of pure mystical power and let it drift toward the surface.
There was no splash, no ripple. The energy sank as though into thick syrup—dense and heavy. Movement slowed to a crawl, and then an unseen force began to grind against it, stripping the energy away bit by bit until nothing remained.
Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s true,” he murmured. “This water is bound by laws of dissolution and gravity. Ordinary light-body skills won’t work. To cross, we’ll need a spiritual barrier—or a tool infused with spatial or aquatic energy.”
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