After seeing Huang Yunfan and his companion off, Zhang Yan offered Deng Qing a few words of comfort and took his leave as well. His duties lay elsewhere, and he had to report there when the time came.
Once Zhang Yan had left, Deng Qing sat cross-legged on the bed again. Silently circulating the Devour Heaven Scripture, he refined a strand of wasteland blood and brought his body into peak condition.
To be honest, apart from a sore neck, he had suffered no injuries in his fight with Jia Yu. But if he was putting on an act, he had to see it through, so he played the invalid.
He had never expected to get a private room out of it.
Now, he was preparing himself to take another Blood-Burning Pill. Although he knew it probably would not do much, his own conjectures were not necessarily right. He decided to stick to the established process.
He swallowed a Blood-Burning Pill. As he circulated his qi-blood through his body again and again, the flush on his face gradually faded.
After completing the process, he silently circulated his mystic art, sending the mystic wasteland baleful blood through his body.
According to the panel, having just acquired the mystic wasteland baleful blood, his most pressing task was to build his affinity with it.
How was he to build that affinity? By circulating the mystic wasteland baleful blood, letting it travel through his body and imprinting more of himself upon it.
Three days passed in a flash. Apart from waiting for his daily food and drink deliveries, Deng Qing did nothing but cultivate. It was a little respite amid all the bustle, and he was living quite comfortably.
Early that morning, just after he finished a meal of mixed ingredients cooked in a communal