The herbs in my vessel pulsed with the blue qi flowing from my palm, their color deepening with each passing second. I kept my face neutral despite the warmth spreading through my chest – partly pride, partly the effort of maintaining the flow of energy from my body into the mixture.
Around me, the other competitors had paused their own work to stare. Even the stern-faced woman two stations down had abandoned her careful measurements to gape at my unconventional method.
"This is... impossible," someone whispered, loud enough to carry through the stunned silence.
Judge Desmond Davenport's face had gone from smug to ashen. I caught his eye briefly, noting how his knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the judges' table. His attempt to sabotage me had spectacularly backfired, forcing me to demonstrate abilities I might otherwise have kept hidden.
