Previously, she had wondered why cultivators with higher cultivation spent longer in seclusion, often years, decades, or even a century at a time. Many cultivators progressed slowly precisely because they could not endure that loneliness.
Before formally entering seclusion, Xue Fuyao had also worried about whether she could bear that loneliness. Now, it seemed she had no need to worry.
After entering a meditative state, Xue Fuyao felt as though she had entered another world.
There were many points of light in this world, and in her eyes, each one represented a person.
Among these points of light, Xue Fuyao saw many familiar people, including her Imperial Father, who was no more than a blurred silhouette in her memories. Though she could no longer remember him clearly, she knew it was him.
There were also those brothers and sisters she had only met a handful of times. The one time she had been closest to them was when she buried them.
Xue Fuyao did not know what she was feeling at that moment. It was indescribable-very calm, yet not quite so calm. She even wondered whether a heart demon had latched onto her and tried to withdraw from meditation, but never succeeded.
Fortunately, she was easygoing enough. After her initial struggle, seeing that these points of light had no effect on her cultivation, she simply stopped paying attention to them and continued cultivating with complete concentration.
She became so absorbed in cultivating that she even lost track of time passing outside.
Two years later.
Xue Fuyao slowly opened her eyes. She moved her head slightly, and her neck gave a series of cracks, followed by her shoulders, hands, and feet.
Like a newborn child, she began familiarizing herself with her limbs bit by bit.
She stood up and brushed the