The Human Race Truly Dares to March North?

The path of cultivation had never been smooth—it was a tightrope walk along a blade's edge.

Yet this calamity was not necessarily a disaster.

In ancient times, the spiritual energy of the Primordial Wilderness had been as abundant as an ocean. A wild blade of grass need only breathe it in and out for a hundred years to take form and ascend as an immortal;

The moment living beings were born, they possessed immortal-level cultivation. This was called "innate."

But power came too easily, while their temperaments could not keep pace—

When a great calamity descended and Calamity Qi surged through them, they lost all reason and became the source of disaster instead.

Mountains and rivers collapsed, living beings suffered untold misery—all because of their rage once they lost control.

How could that be called cultivation? It was clearly a sharp blade hanging over the heads of all living beings.

Over time, great calamities became fiendish things everyone dreaded and avoided.

Yet they did not know that within great danger, great opportunity was hidden as well.

If one could ride the tide and rise with it, who was to say they could not leap to High Heaven and soar straight up ninety thousand li!

The Heart Demon Tribulation was the same.

Its core lay in tempering one's state of mind, allowing cultivators to break free from the rut of judging everything by realm alone—no longer blindly comparing the strength of their Primordial Spirits while neglecting the refinement of their spiritual foundations.

"General!"

Changchun crashed heavily to the ground. Sweetness welled up in his throat, and before he had even caught half a breath, he struggled to thank the man who had saved his life.

But when he looked up, the towering figure before him, standing as immovable as mountains, made