"Ancient cultivators truly possessed miraculous skill," the princess said with admiration as she gazed at the magnificent tower in the image.
Mo Caihuan could not have agreed more. Teleportation Gates, pocket spaces, and all sorts of medicinal herbs and spirit treasures. She recalled that the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion in Great Jin could also create pocket spaces, and that Han Li had later learned the technique as well.
Creating a space required vast amounts of energy, but using an existing spatial rift would make it considerably easier.
If I bundled several Nuclear Bombs together, perhaps I could blast through space. Mo Caihuan thought a Nuclear Bomb array held real promise: concentrate their explosive power on a single point and challenge space itself.
Right, and restrictions. With restrictions, I could contain the Nuclear Bombs' power within a certain area without harming the land. Ah, if only I could combine the advantages of the cultivation world with those of industry. Chemicals, food, metallurgy, medicine, precision manufacturing, electronics... All sorts of things came to mind.
There was so much to do. Cultivators only had to concern themselves with cultivation, but a transmigrator had much more to consider.
Cultivators cared only about cultivating, not what became of the Lower Realm. Even if it lost its spiritual energy, those who had cultivated first would already have ascended.
Ascended cultivators had something to say about that, too: What does the Lower Realm's prosperity have to do with me, a three-thousand-year-old cultivator?
Cultivators faced the same conflict between collective and individual interests. Many chose to betray their clans and sects to further their own development. Others devoted themselves to the greater good, sacrificing themselves to safeguard their clans' and sects' survival.
Mortals were like this, and so were cultivators. Wherever there were people, there was a world of