A group of old men and women grabbed Wang Quan and stepped forward.
The next instant, Wang Quan saw a stretch of nothingness.
The instant after that, he returned to where he had been.
A sense of dislocation swept over him.
The old men and women laughed. "Young man, over these ten years, we've shown you all sorts of beauty in the world, and plenty of wonders too."
"Now you believe this world is real, don't you?"
"This place isn't some living being's thoughts or memories at all, and it certainly won't reset."
"Chin up. Don't let those lunatics get to you."
Wang Quan fell silent.
Ten years?
Heh, what a joke.
Only an instant had passed.
He had seen nothing but a stretch of nothingness, none of that beauty, let alone those supposed wonders.
Still, he did not argue with them. Instead, he quietly went to find the girls and spent his time with them.
Every day, he spent some time refining the [Flying Rope Technique], then wandered about with the girls, sharing tender moments.
He devoted more of his time to practicing various spells, studying all the Purple Mansion Realm Fundamental Methods of the Heterodox Paths and the Orthodox Mystic Sects, and reading Daoist Scriptures.
At first, he still thought about escaping.
But as time went on, he settled his mind, building up his foundations and treating this place as somewhere to cultivate in seclusion.
He cultivated earnestly, devoting himself to secluded practice.
In this world, the sun's crow flew and the moon's hare raced:
The hemp rope in Wang Quan's hands grew longer and longer.
It gained ten feet every thousand years.
The first thousand years passed, and the boys and girls remained lively every day, improving their cultivation.
They neither aged nor grew up. Every day,