Inside the tent lay an enormous tiger-pelt rug, its faint spiritual aura unceasing, carrying its own warmth through the cold autumn.
Cang Ming lay quietly atop it.
He was wrapped in a long robe, his hooded cloak still on. Jiang Wang had dragged him back exactly as he was, and that was exactly how he remained.
The soldiers who had brought him back feared they had not shown him sufficient respect and did not dare lift his cloak.
As for the tent's owner—Wanyan Du, one of the Qionglu Three Steeds—once he had confirmed that Cang Ming would not die, he paid him no further mind.
His breathing was steady, his body naturally relaxed, his Primordial Spirit submerged in the Divine Sea to heal itself. He seemed to be in a completely defenseless state of unconsciousness.
But if there were a pair of eyes capable of catching the principles of the Dao, they would see the phantom of a sacred heavenly steed suspended above him.
This sacred heavenly steed was slender and beautiful, its eyes like mirrors. It looked gentle and harmless, like a painting made of bubbles. But the instant killing intent touched it, its savagery and might would make themselves known.
The Divine Treasure Seal Fetal Breath Method—this was a life-saving art secretly passed down by the Cangtu Divine Church.
After a long slumber, Cang Ming's Primordial Spirit surfaced from the Divine Sea, bringing an end to his state of unknowing unconsciousness.
Without needing to open his eyes, he had already seen everything clearly. After briefly sensing the state of his body, he sat up.
"Awake?" Wanyan Du, who was writing a military report at the desk, asked casually.
Some time ago, Jing and Mu had joined forces for a massive sweep through the Border Wasteland. At that time,