Wang Qi still remembered this place. This was where he had first experienced a battle of life and death. The place where Li Ziye had fallen in battle.
The youth sat cross-legged by the edge of the dirt pit. By then, the sun had already dipped westward, stretching his shadow long across the ground and casting it onto the far side of the great pit. Looking at the hollow shrouded in shadow, its depth nearly impossible to make out, Wang Qi let out a soft breath.
Time was truly a thing difficult to put into words. Sometimes, when one revisited an old place, certain special feelings would always arise.
A year ago, when he had stood at the bottom of this pit, he had only just entered the Qi Refining stage, had only just encountered modern dharma, and had not understood a single spell. A year later, he was already at mid Qi Refining, first among his peers in both spellcraft and martial arts attainments. Looking closely at his shadow, he had even grown quite a bit taller.
His cultivation had grown, his knowledge had grown, and his height had grown as well. Yet one feeling had not changed in the slightest.
Over the past year, the more Wang Qi cultivated, the more stifled he felt over Li Ziye's death.
With the Yao Ding Suanjing nearly perfected and the Heavenly Sword in hand, a mere Nascent Soul Realm Ancient Method Cultivator, a mere Nascent Soul Realm cultivator—he could have cut him down with a single sword strike!
Yet he had died on that gloomy morning, when the sun could not be seen. What a stifling death.
Wang Qi shook his head, dismissing the stray thoughts in his heart, then took out a stack of papers from his storage pouch. They