Time flew like a shuttle. Another year and a half slipped quietly past within the Heavenly Tomb, where the perpetual desolation and chill made the passage of time almost impossible to perceive.
Cold and damp filled heaven and earth, as though every trace of warmth in this space had been drained away. The sky was dim and murky, and against such a sinister backdrop, even it seemed listless and feeble.
A vast ocean of silver light floated in the void, churning without restraint. The terrifying yin qi above its surface corroded the surrounding space, twisting it grotesquely.
At the center of that silver ocean lay a hollow region. No energy flowed there; every current that swept toward it automatically parted and flowed around it.
Within that hollow region, a black-clad figure sat cross-legged. A silver sheen, identical to that of the ocean outside, faintly coursed along the contours of his muscles. It wreathed his entire body, and every flicker of its radiance sent violent ripples through the boundless silver ocean.
The black-clad figure showed no awareness of the changes in the ocean around him. His eyes remained tightly closed, as they had been for an entire year.
Throughout that year, his body had not moved in the slightest. Even his breathing had become almost imperceptible. Were it not for the thread of vitality still lingering around him, anyone would have mistaken him for a lifeless corpse.
As he sat motionless like an old monk who had passed into nirvana, a strand of three-colored liquid quietly seeped through his pores. Like slender vines, it wound around his body, releasing gentle energy that constantly repaired the bones and muscles still splitting apart within him.
This man was none other than Hun Changqing.
A year and a half earlier, after killing Yan Yuan,