Boom!
Daochen felt an earth-shaking roar erupt within his Dantian Sea of Consciousness.
The next instant, drawn by the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art, boundless divine essence surged into every meridian in his body like an erupting volcano.
"It hurts!"
"It hurts so much!"
Daochen's brows knitted tightly, pain showing on his handsome, otherworldly face.
Almost instantly, fine beads of blood appeared in all forty-eight thousand pores of his body. At that moment, Daochen looked less like a Quasi-Saint powerhouse and more like a man made of blood!
He had thought that, having entered the Quasi-Saint realm with a body every bit as strong as a High-Grade Xiantian Spiritual Treasure, cultivating the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art would be far easier than before.
Now, however, he suddenly realized he had gotten ahead of himself.
Cultivating the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art was far, far harder than he had ever imagined!!!
Without the boundless divine essence in the Three Lights Divine Water sustaining him, his body would probably have failed to withstand the overwhelmingly tyrannical power of the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art and exploded the instant he attempted the seventh revolution.
"Fuck, no wonder the Twelve Ancestral Witches cultivate in seclusion in the Pangu Hall. How the hell could anyone survive this outside?"
Daochen spat out the bloody foam in his mouth and could not help cursing!
This was hardly cultivation. He was gambling with his life!
Given the strain the seventh revolution of the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art placed on his body, the eighth revolution would surely be even more terrifying!
He would have to draw upon the power of the Pangu Divine Hall.
Otherwise, forcing his cultivation would be useless, no matter how much Three Lights Divine Water he had.
But when he thought of how dearly those twelve hulking Ancestral Witches