Wang Ping had been in secluded cultivation for fifty years. Of the two Wood Spirit Origins within the Huai Tree's trunk, nearly half had already been absorbed, and the tree itself had grown to over sixty zhang tall.
Its luxuriant branches and leaves resembled a gigantic umbrella, blanketing every corner of the Starlight Illusion. Huai blossoms filled the sky as they drifted to the ground, becoming nourishment for the Wood Spirit energy.
The faint glow emitted by the Starlight Illusion and the pale halo stirred by the Wood Spirit energy filtered through the lush branches and leaves, scattering across the ground in flickering patches of mottled light and lending this place an air of mystery.
Remaining awake throughout such prolonged secluded cultivation had made Wang Ping somewhat emotionally detached. If not for the spiritual impulses of the believers in the Divine Art Array stirring his humanity, he could only pass the time through sleep.
The Central Continent remained much the same. Over the years, the commoners and cultivators of the north and south had occupied themselves with only two matters. The first was naturally reclaiming wasteland; the second was treasure hunting. As time passed, more and more people found treasures underground, while some discovered mineral veins. Settlements then sprang up around those veins as their foundations.
Civilization was reviving, yet also declining. The most obvious decline lay in the growing discrepancies in the unified script, born from the differing understandings of culture among the aristocratic clans reclaiming the wilderness.
Zi Luan understood the importance of writing very clearly. At its greatest extent, it concerned the inheritance of an entire Daoist temple. Thus, he specifically dispatched Qi practitioners to teach and educate people across the south, maintaining the unity of script and culture.
The north, however, was far more chaotic. Especially