After thirteen days of seclusion, morning and evening had alternated, and the sun and moon had turned beyond the walls, yet the world around Qin He remained silent and unchanged.
No one knew that within this ordinary quiet chamber, a transformation that would remake him from the marrow up was taking place.
Qin He sat cross-legged, the meridians throughout his body having long since widened severalfold. The mixed and impure breaths once coursing through his flesh, bones, and blood were now being squeezed out and cleansed bit by bit.
His body was like a world tempered over and over again, every inch of muscle and sinew adapting to a higher level of the Dao.
The final wisp of turbid air slowly rose from the depths of his dantian, circulated through his body along his meridians, and finally drifted quietly from his nose and mouth.
The instant the turbid air dispersed, Qin He's entire body felt light.
There was no surging impact of spiritual power, nor was there any dazzling burst of radiance.
What replaced it was an ultimate sense of steadiness.
It was as if rivers had returned to the sea and ten thousand paths had converged into one; every restless force settled completely, becoming a foundation vast and weighty beyond measure.
His Saint Tier Dao Foundation had been completely stabilized.
The moment his Dao Foundation settled into place, a faint, inscrutable pull suddenly came from the depths of the void.
The sensation was profoundly mysterious. It entered neither ear nor eye, but branded itself directly into the depths of his mind.
Qin He's brows drew together slightly as his consciousness abruptly spread outward, trying to seize that drifting trace of aura.
It felt familiar.
This aura had neither root nor source, elusive and uncertain, like a dying candle in