Southern Ridge.
The mountains stretched wild and vast, ancient trees towered into the sky, and old vines hung in the air-a primeval wilderness.
Deep in the ancient forest, Jiang Ning stood on fallen leaves.
Bright light gradually emerged around him, and his body slowly floated into the air.
Then space warped. Though there was no wind, the dead leaves whirled wildly, gathering toward him.
At this moment, he was like a heavy object falling into a net woven by heaven and earth.
The net had lain flat, but his presence warped it and made it sag.
The limits of heaven and earth! The thought surfaced in Jiang Ning's mind once again.
Previously, he had manifested his Dharma Form, becoming a being only two hundred zhang tall. Only with its enhancement had he attained this state.
Now, he relied on himself, not the elevation of his Dharma Form.
As he stood there, heaven and earth naturally sank around him, and space was like a soft sheet of silk depressed by the weight of his existence.
The Martial Saint he had met some days ago had exhibited the same phenomenon.
Now, dead leaves swirled, pebbles floated, and light bent around him, distorting the view.
He slowly raised his right hand and examined the lines on his palm.
That simple movement, merely raising his hand, warped the surrounding space before it returned to its original state.
It was like a fingertip lightly tracing a still surface of water, leaving ripples that could not immediately settle.
"Is this... the Martial Saint Realm?"
He murmured.
At this very moment, he could feel that he was much stronger than he had just been.
But how much stronger, and in what ways, he found difficult to express.
It was as though this was how it ought to