Fang Mo sat cross-legged atop the isolated island, his Primordial Spirit bathing in the torrent of spacetime. The river water was formless and intangible, yet it carried the force of ten thousand jun. Every wash scoured and tempered his Primordial Spirit, like a craftsman forging iron through a thousand hammer blows.
He had no idea how long he had sat here.
A month? Two months? Or a year?
There was no sun or moon in the River of Spacetime, no day or night—only its eternal rush.
His Primordial Spirit gradually solidified within the torrent, going from faint as smoke to possessing something of a physical presence. Fragments of spacetime laws drifted around him like stardust in a river, absorbed bit by bit, refined, and fused deep into his Primordial Spirit.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
It was not because of any disturbance from the outside world, but because he sensed that his Primordial Spirit had reached the very limit before Spirit Transformation.
Fang Mo did not hurry to leave the River of Spacetime to make his breakthrough. Instead, he continued to settle his mind and deepen his insights. His Undying Dragon Soul Fire was about to advance.
A point of light lit up in the depths of his Primordial Spirit. Nourished by the long river, it finally began to sprout. The light grew brighter and brighter, like a spark on the verge of bursting into flame.
At the same time, within the Dojo.
True Lord Zhenyue, seated cross-legged outside Fang Mo's cultivation room, abruptly opened his eyes and looked toward the room.
He sensed a terrifying aura gestating within Fang Mo's body, like magma beneath the earth, like a hibernating beast, like a dragon egg about to crack open. Though that aura only stirred faintly, it already made Zhenyue's heart