"..."
Time passed, and Luochuan City's night was tranquil.
In the courtyard, Han Yu still sat cross-legged. The ink-black Qilin patterns around her body were slowly fading as the ancestral flesh and blood essence of the Primordial Ink Qilin began to be refined and absorbed.
Her previously somewhat violent aura had now settled into steadiness.
Not far away, Su Yueli sat quietly, her consciousness sinking inward.
From the scheme at the Great Zhao Imperial Palace, to the life-and-death pursuit across the Skyspine Wasteland, to tearing the ancient ferocious beast Mo Cang apart with her bare hands... every recent event flashed through her Sea of Consciousness like faded, mottled scrolls.
Every opponent's moves, every desperate contest between life and death, even the Nirvana Blackflame Mo Cang unleashed before his death—all of it stirred ripples in her heart.
"Fourteenth Realm Middle Stage... but this still isn't enough."
Su Yueli pondered silently.
When the Archaic Dynasty fell, countless peerless Fourteenth Realm experts had perished alike. Even the laws of the Heavenly Dao had been left incomplete by that battle.
The Fifteenth Realm that Motian Xing yearned for day and night was absolutely not a threshold one could reach merely by piling up Qi and Blood.
Martial arts, martial arts—the martial was technique, while the Dao was principle.
All along her path, she had relied solely on an unyielding refusal to admit defeat and this heaven-blessed body, breaking ten thousand techniques with a single fist.
But if the myriad techniques of this world truly reached their ultimate limit, could mere brute force really break them...
Take the Primordial Nirvana Blackflame, for instance. It touched upon the laws of death and decay. Had Mo Cang's strength not declined, that strike might truly have reduced her body to flying ash.
"What if my fist did not