Xiang Zizai groggily began cultivating a new demonic art, forcefully enduring the dual discomfort in body and mind as he circulated the technique, then fell into a deep sleep.
At dawn, Xiang Zizai slowly opened his dazed eyes, then suddenly snapped awake and rose to look around.
He was still where he had slept yesterday, and nothing had changed. Yet why had the smell in the room changed, and the sounds outside changed as well? The birdsong was piercing, even footsteps, the sound of cartwheels grinding over the ground, and other people talking had all become incomparably clear.
He hurried outside to investigate carefully. Aside from his senses of sound and smell feeling strange, everything else was normal.
An absurd thought suddenly surfaced in his mind, and he hastily returned to his room to sit in meditation and examine himself inwardly.
Before long, he opened his eyes, his face blank.
He had broken through, advancing to Sixth Rank.
Sixth, Fifth, and Fourth Rank were collectively known as Middle Rank. Once one entered those ranks, one was no longer ordinary.
Even the weakest Middle Rank cultivator, so long as he was willing to pledge allegiance, would receive generous treatment from every major power.
"I can advance to Sixth Rank too? No, how could I advance to Sixth Rank so quickly?"
Xiang Zizai recalled yesterday's demonic art, a complicated look appearing on his face.
It seemed it truly was a demonic art.
Demonic arts indeed brought rapid results. As for whether there would be consequences later, he could only leave it to fate.
"Still... demonic arts have always been somewhat aberrant. Their true qi circulation differs from the norm, and they trigger all kinds of abnormalities. Yet this technique is upright and tranquil, vast and righteous, completely devoid of the feel of