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Heaven and earth, the boundless cosmos, stretched endlessly.
Yang Ming's true body sank into deep meditation, comprehending the rules and profundities of the Douluo World. Countless points of light seemed to favor him from beyond perception, settling onto him little by little and subtly transforming his flesh, perfecting his body's structure so it could bear more of the world's rules.
Human flesh was naturally inferior to that of Soul Beasts.
To make a comparison, a human body was like a wooden bucket, capable of holding only so much water, while a Soul Beast's body was like a swimming pool, able to hold far more.
This was also why Soul Beasts could gain a profundity suited to themselves every time they survived a heavenly tribulation, accumulating more and more of them, while the profundities a human Spirit Master could comprehend were limited.
Of course, humans also possessed something that set them above Soul Beasts: their capacity for comprehension.
Without needing to survive a heavenly tribulation with only a slim chance of survival, they could comprehend profundities simply by relying on their insight and continually feeling their way forward along the paths their predecessors had traveled. Though those profundities might not suit them best, they could acquire within a mere century what took Soul Beasts thousands or tens of thousands of years to obtain.
The way of heaven took from excess to replenish deficiency.
The way of man took from deficiency to replenish excess.
Having previously experienced comprehending rules and profundities in the Far North, Yang Ming now handled the process as easily as driving a familiar carriage down a familiar road, reaping far greater rewards.
The next moment, the Mysterious Sword moved without any wind, floating freely in midair and revolving around Yang Ming.
A scarlet aura of slaughter wreathed