Time flowed on, passing without notice.
During cultivation, feeling one's strength rise and improve bit by bit was an addictive pleasure.
Thus, a saying often circulated throughout the Cultivation World: "Cultivation knows no years; when winter ends, one knows not the year!"
Inside the cave abode, Li Qing's hair and beard were disheveled, and his face was unwashed and grimy. He no longer possessed the slightest bit of an immortal cultivator's otherworldly bearing.
He had lived in this cave abode for nearly four years. During those four years, he had scarcely bothered with his appearance. Tossed into the deep mountains and old forests, he would have looked no different from a wild man.
At this moment, Li Qing sat cross-legged atop a meditation cushion, his eyes tightly shut as the space between his brows began to tremble faintly.
After a long while, Li Qing slowly opened his eyes, a trace of pain visible in them.
"Hiss! Four years, and this Soul Condensing Slash still hasn't even reached the entry level. Why is cultivating a Spiritual Sense killing technique so difficult?!"
Li Qing grimaced. Just now, he had forcibly condensed his Spiritual Sense into a sharp blade, causing faint damage to his soul. Naturally, this translated into unceasing throbbing pain between his brows.
This soul-piercing pain felt like forcibly plucking a beard hair from above one's lips, except the sensation came from between his brows and continued without end, unbearably agonizing.
Even with Li Qing's resolute will, he could barely endure it. Over the past few years, he had nearly given up several times.
Of course, his practice over these four years had not been entirely without progress. At first, he had not even known how to begin. He had been completely at a loss when it came to condensing his