While holding the stance, Meng Zhao also visualized drifting clouds. Following the guidance recorded in the Cloud Gathering Skill manual, he used his intent to direct them, making the clouds gather and disperse in a rhythmic pattern. He continuously squeezed heat from the Cloud Ascending Pill, sending it surging through his entire body. After merging with his qi and blood, it returned to his dantian.
Meng Zhao was multitasking now, practicing while carefully pondering.
Normally, one Cloud Ascending Pill was enough to sustain a cultivator for a month. Of course, that was only a rough estimate, and some variation was perfectly normal.
Those blessed with exceptional talent and aptitude absorbed medicinal power more quickly. Naturally, a Cloud Ascending Pill would not last them a month; half a month, or even less, was possible.
Meng Zhao pondered it carefully. At his current pace, one Cloud Ascending Pill would probably last him seven days, far less than even those with excellent natural talent.
Beyond his unusual talent and physique, which suited martial practice, another key factor was that Meng Zhao left no stone unturned in cultivation. He squeezed every last drop of medicinal power from the pill, achieving the utmost efficiency.
By that logic, it seemed that Meng Zhao would not need long to advance from Foundation Establishment to Fetal Movement. After all, he consumed medicine quickly and accumulated more medicinal power. Likewise, the process of forming a Cloud Seed and deriving Cloud Gathering Force should be shorter.
Yet reality was anything but that simple. Meng Zhao could clearly sense that his body was like barren land parched by a long drought, desperately absorbing the medicinal power emitted by the Cloud Ascending Pill, continuously nourishing his flesh and strengthening it.
A realization suddenly dawned on Meng Zhao. No wonder this world did