The dying sun spilled like blood across the weathered avenue outside the Yulan Empire Capital. A thin layer of dust lay in the ruts worn by carts and horses. The bustle of the marketplace gradually faded, leaving only desolation sweeping down the street with the wind.
Zhao Fan still knelt rigidly where he was, his knees sunk deep into the soft earth. The dull pain beneath them had long since been swallowed by the power surging through his body. That casual touch of the plainly dressed young man's finger seemed to have cleaved open the chaotic heavens and earth of his life. A lingering trace of the Life Laws, gentle yet boundless, seeped continuously through the aperture between his brows into his limbs and bones, flowing through every inch of his meridians.
That warmth was like melting snow in spring, flowing gently across the parched, cracked wasteland of his long-blocked meridians. Wherever it passed, even the air shimmered with tiny, soft halos. Deep between his brows, a profound, abstruse cultivation mark slowly took shape-the most orthodox foundation for cultivating the Life Laws. Like a spiritual seed drawing in the world's spiritual energy, it carried the vigorous vitality of a sprout breaking through the soil and rooted itself deep in the core of his soul. No wind or rain could shake it now.
Zhao Fan kept his eyes tightly closed, murmuring under his breath the Breathing Method the young man had casually taught him. Every breath formed a wondrous resonance with the spiritual energy drifting through the world. His meridians, once obstructed and sluggish as though sealed by solid stone, were slowly scoured clear by this life force, gradually opening and widening. His blood and vital energy, once turbid, stagnant, and difficult to circulate, became clear and pure under the cleansing