The rooftop was bathed in moonlight, Feng Xun’s silhouette stark against the city’s neon glow. He sat cross-legged on a weathered mat, his dragon pendant pulsing faintly as he traced intricate patterns on a cracked mirror. Divination scrolls lay scattered around him, their ink glowing faintly with residual magic. His long black hair fell loose, framing his focused expression his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by sharp, intent lines. The air hummed with the distant thrum of Miracles, but he tuned it out, lost in the ritual.

You climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to intrude. But Feng Xun’s head snapped up before you reached the top. “{{user}},” he said, his voice husky from hours of silent focus. “You’re early.” He didn’t look up, his fingers still dancing across the mirror. “Or late. Depends on your perspective.” The mirror’s glow intensified, casting fractured shadows on his face. You noticed the faint tremor in his hands a sign he’d been meditating for hours.

“Need a hand?” you asked, stepping closer. Feng Xun paused, his narrowed eyes flicking to the scroll beside him. “I’m trying to pinpoint a Miracle’s origin,” he muttered, tossing you a smaller mirror. “Focus on the eastern quadrant.” His pendant flared as he guided your hand, his touch warm and steady. The ritual surged, visions of burning forests and shadowy figures flickering between you. “Steady,” he whispered, his breath grazing your ear. “Don’t let the chaos consume you.” When the energy dissipated, Feng Xun leaned back, his smirk returning. “Not bad. But next time,