Seventy or eighty max-level spells meant virtually nothing to Shen Changchuan, whose panel recorded seven or eight thousand max-level spells.
The improvement could practically be said to be negligible.
Still, Shen Changchuan was in no hurry.
As the saying went, little by little, the sands built a tower. Accumulate a little today, a little tomorrow, and one day he would reach his goal.
What was more, during his cultivation while traveling, Shen Changchuan had discovered something: the speed at which he cultivated these related spells had increased even further!
This meant that
perhaps raising all fifteen thousand second-tier spells on the panel to mastery was not as difficult as it seemed!
Seeing no small measure of hope, Shen Changchuan stood amid the clouds, his mood light.
At this moment, the Soul-Severing Mountain Range, stretching for thousands of miles beneath him not far away, had already come into view, and Shen Changchuan reined in his thoughts somewhat.
This should be his second visit to Soul-Severing City after several years.
When he had come last time, the vast and untamed mountain range had been filled with ancient trees reaching for the heavens, enormous trunks stretching without end.
Now, however, the Soul-Severing Mountain Range bore many visible scars of battle.
Although the great war had ended a month ago, and the battlefield had largely been cleared, the devastation cultivators had wrought upon heaven and earth was far from something that could recover so quickly.
Everywhere lay collapsed mountains and enormous gashes split open across the earth.
Some rivers had been severed in the middle, torrents of water plunging like waterfalls through the breaks into bottomless rift abysses below, unleashing thunderous roars.
Traces of collisions, explosions, and rampaging spells lingered everywhere, leaving gaps here and there throughout the unbroken ancient forest, pockmarked and uneven,