Ao Bing naturally knew nothing of Long Feng's sinister thoughts, but she still agreed with him. Meng Zhao truly was extraordinary, and in Martial Dao Cultivation he was her senior as well. Perhaps she could visit Sifang City and seek his guidance.
While the two in the Crystal Palace harbored their own schemes, Meng Zhao sped all the way back to the secluded little courtyard Sifang City had prepared for him and immediately entered seclusion.
In the dim room, Meng Zhao sat cross-legged atop a round ice platform with his eyes shut. The unceasing chill beneath him not only caused no harm, but steadied the mind and helped temper one's inner breath. It was a fine treasure for acquired cultivation.
Of course, for a martial artist like Meng Zhao, having it or not made little difference.
At this moment, Meng Zhao's Primordial Spirit sank into his own body. Through inner vision, he surveyed every blood vessel, meridian, and acupoint within him.
Yet unlike his previous cultivation, where he focused only on true qi, acupoints, and the dantian, this time Meng Zhao's attention was mainly fixed upon his Blood Qi.
The Blood Qi throughout his body was abundant and mighty as rivers and seas. Nor was it loose or powerless; after years of cultivation and tempering, it had transformed into an exceptional true dragon. Countless little dragons gathered into one great dragon, and that great dragon was the true god of his bloodline.
Meng Zhao continuously immersed himself in the power of his bloodline, using his Primordial Spirit to deduce and the Qi Gazing Technique to calculate. In this way, he gained an unprecedented understanding of his own bloodline. The divine abilities once contained within it—Dragon Essence, the Ziwei Star Swallowing Technique, the Purple Haze Treasure Robe, and other Bloodline Divine