Qin Fengming had completely cut off and sealed away every attachment in his heart during this seclusion, shutting out all interference from the outside world and immersing himself in it wholeheartedly.
Whether he could advance to Mahayana would determine his life or death, as well as the future fates of those close to him.
Although the Manghuang Sect had started from a lofty point—even those super sects that had existed for millions of years might not surpass the Manghuang Sect as it stood now—Qin Fengming understood that the Manghuang Sect still lacked foundations. If he died, the Manghuang Sect might not necessarily fall apart, but its morale would certainly plummet, making survival difficult.
There were also his old friends who were close to him. If he failed to advance to Mahayana and died in his battle with Ancestor Jiao Wei, their state of mind would surely decline as well, affecting their future cultivation.
No matter what, he had to break through the Mahayana bottleneck.
Time slowly passed. Qin Fengming sat cross-legged beneath a shroud of multicolored radiance, enduring the baptism of vast Heaven and Earth energy. Rolling energy surrounded him, while inside his body it surged like overflowing rivers, constantly pounding against the banks of his Pill Sea.
That sensation, like heavy hammers pounding him, repeated endlessly inside Qin Fengming's body. It was as though countless finely wound machines were working tirelessly within him, seeking to temper his body for a thousand or ten thousand years.
One year, two years, five years, ten years...
Time flowed on. Unfortunately, there was no alternation of sun and moon here, no rising and ebbing tides, nor the withering and flourishing of plants or the coming and departing of swallows. Immersed in cultivation, Qin Fengming seemed to have forgotten the passage of time.
This