After a while, a golden light floated up from Old Daoist Lin's prostrate body. It was his Primordial Spirit emerging from within. Pointing at himself, he caused spiritual light to flash, and the hole in his brow gradually closed. Even the mouthful of golden blood he had spat out returned to his body.
Once the Primordial Spirit returned to his body, he sat up again, expressionless.
Using the patriarch's manifested image to observe and comprehend the mysteries carried all manner of dangers. Since one's mind was attached to it, one would follow along in deducing the Dao methods. If it touched upon something beyond one's understanding, forcefully continuing would easily reverse one's qi circulation and cause one's body to collapse.
As this process generally could not be stopped once it began, having noticed this, he, as a cultivator of long standing, naturally would not have neglected even the slightest precaution.
Many years ago, he had already set up a method upon himself. Should his qi circulation reverse and prove impossible to stop, this method would respond on its own, striking his mind and thereby severing the connection.
Since this was not an attack by an external enemy, no matter how badly a cultivator was injured, it would not extinguish his life force, much less harm his Primordial Spirit. Thus, his injuries could heal and recover in an instant.
Yet before this, he had never encountered such a thing. The impact had left him somewhat dispirited.
He took out medicinal pills and swallowed them, then regulated his breathing for a while. Only then did his spirits recover slightly.
Although he had severed his own mind just now, that hurried glimpse had not been without gain. He had seen some useful things.
He discovered that the formation was constantly changing, and an