Deep within the Thousand Sword Pavilion, mortals felt no discomfort, but to cultivators, the spiritual energy here was so thin it felt stifling.
It was not actual suffocation; rather, every meridian in their bodies felt deeply uncomfortable.
In a guest room on the mountain, Mo Chen sat cross-legged in meditation.
Time waited for no one. His master and his master's wife were in mortal danger on Hongfeng Mountain. He had to race against every second.
But simply sitting here drawing qi into his body was too slow.
Mo Chen pursed his lips.
Unbelievable.
The spiritual energy here was so fucking thin it was as though someone had sifted it through a sieve. Normal breathing exercises could barely draw any in.
After a brief moment of thought, Mo Chen took Foreshadowing from his Storage Bag and drew the simplest possible Spirit-Gathering Formation around himself.
The formation lines were crooked and twisted, hideously ugly.
Whatever. As long as it works.
Gritting his teeth, Mo Chen took out two hundred spirit stones and piled them around the Spirit-Gathering Formation.
Two hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones would have amounted to seven or eight years of wages back when he was still in the Twin Crane Sect. But after the successive reversals in which he had killed his attackers in the Half-Limit Secret Realm, it was only a small sum.
I still have spring water, too, Mo Chen reminded himself.
Among his five-element spiritual roots, the Five-Note Resonance on his Day Pillar was [spring water], signifying nourishment flowing downward, unceasing and inexhaustible.
As long as even a thread of spiritual power remained in his body, it could keep regenerating and replenish itself.
With the Spirit-Gathering Formation drawing the spiritual energy from the surrounding spirit stones as well, he should be able to restore all his dharma