Chapter 155 - A Strange Cultivation Experience - III
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
Glenn’s voice tore through the valley like a thunderclap, his body spinning in the air like an out-of-control top, arms and legs flailing in a chaotic spectacle of desperation. He was over a hundred meters above the ground, completely at the mercy of a zero-gravity pocket that had launched him skyward without warning.
Below him, calmly seated at the edge of a crystal-clear river, Master Silas took a sip of water with the serenity of someone watching a painting being finished. The breeze blew gently, stirring the folds of his red imperial robe as he murmured:
"Focus, little freak... You have to win the tug of war between the valley’s gravity and your own magic. If you want to cultivate here, you need to stop being pulled around like a dead leaf."
Glenn, for his part, was not in the mood for philosophy. His face was dripping with sweat as if he were in a sauna, teeth clenched as he channeled all his gravitational affinity in an attempt to anchor himself back to the ground.
Slowly, his movements began to slow down. Inch by inch, he was managing to overcome the weightlessness, his gravitational magic working like an invisible crane pulling him downward.
His body trembled, muscles screamed, but strength prevailed. He was returning to the ground.
All because, in a stroke of complete stupidity and bad luck, he had stepped on a seemingly harmless weed that, of course, had concealed an inverted gravity pocket strong enough to launch him like a ragdoll.
Silas crossed his legs and took the cigarette from his lips with a bored smile.
"Congratulations, Glenn. You’ve just learned the first lesson of the Valley of Floating Waterfalls: here, even the weeds want you dead."
Glenn grunted, still floating five meters above the ground, his face twisted in hatred and exhaustion.
"AND I HATE PLANTS!"