Yet Meng Zhao was no longer the Ji Rushuang of old. His Martial Dao had now reached a profound realm, melding the ways of Heaven, Earth, and man. With the Emperor's Qi Gazing Technique, he could survey the advantageous terrain of mountains and rivers, the vital currents of birds, fish, and insects—possessing abilities unfathomable even to ghosts and gods.
Along the way, venomous snakes crawled past his feet without showing the slightest reaction, while birds alighted on his shoulders without alarm.
His entire aura and vital current were drawn inward like a perfectly rounded golden pill, flawless and complete. If not for the fact that he could walk and bore human form, martial artists relying solely on their senses of vital energy would take him for a stone or a great tree, never a living, breathing man of flesh and blood.
Even the savage beasts turned a blind eye to him. Their extraordinary spiritual senses and instincts instead became shackles upon them.
Thus, though the savage beasts along the way were ten times more densely spread than before and a hundred times stronger,
there was still nothing to hinder him until he arrived before the Mysterious Valley Ji Rushuang had described.
Before his eyes stretched vast swathes of dense mist hanging in midair, thick as watery clouds.
Even with Meng Zhao's divine eyes, he could see only three meters through the fog. Beyond that lay nothing but pure white.
According to Ji Rushuang, this was what she had seen back then as well. But she had been young, bold, and fearless in her ignorance. She had actually ventured deep into the dense fog and pressed onward until she reached the valley, where the mist finally dispersed and revealed its true face.
Yet in mountain forests, localized dense fog was often