Xu Yi was plunged into frenzied pain and despair. The destruction of his Qi Sea meant his cultivation had come to an end. For a cultivator, this blow was worse even than death and the dissolution of his Dao.
After all, once dead, he was dead; his soul would scatter, and he would not have to endure such overwhelming pain.
But with his Qi Sea destroyed, his soul and spirit remained, and he could still feel everything. For the rest of his life, he would never recover from this devastating blow.
Especially for a cultivation prodigy like Xu Yi, the loss of all hope for immortality was no different from falling into eternal darkness, never to rise again.
Perhaps the grief had lasted long enough that Xu Yi gradually forgot the grief itself.
The nameless flame of vengeance in his heart soared thirty thousand feet high. His hatred for the entire Yun household had been carved into his bones and blood. He gritted his teeth and swore silently: even if his soul were torn apart and he were denied rebirth, he would destroy the Yun household in this life.
Unexpectedly, in the midst of his seething hatred, his mind was clearer than ever. After carefully investigating his predicament, his thoughts raced, and he immediately found a way to break through.
Having overheard the conversation between Yun Mingmie and the armored soldiers, he made his eyes look vacant, as though he were an imbecile, while silently circulating his art.
His blood and qi slowly gathered and flowed through his hidden acupoints. Suddenly, a powerful sensation of qi arose, and Xu Yi abruptly spat out a mouthful of blood.
The plum-blossom stake pressed against his Dazhui Acupoint was suddenly flung away. In the blink of an eye, a bone sword drifted forth