Song Yan had always believed that he had made sufficient preparations whenever he refined Spiritual Source treasures.
In truth, every refinement had been no different from gambling with his life.
This might have had something to do with his experience when he first swallowed Withered Branch. Compared with that time, he had indeed made some preparations afterward. What he did not know, however, was that whether in the Central Region or elsewhere, if those so-called sect disciples were fortunate enough to obtain a Spiritual Source treasure, their sects and masters would certainly make extensive preparations to help them refine it smoothly.
Little Song, on the other hand, would get the treasure, shut the door, and simply gobble it down.
One could say that his first refinement of the wood-element Spiritual Source had led him to believe this was simply how refining Spiritual Sources worked.
For this refinement of the sun and moon Spirit Sources, he had made some additional preparations based on his own conjectures, but in reality, they had not been much use.
Such a crude method of refinement was extremely dangerous. One careless mistake could destroy both his cultivation and his life.
Conversely, compared with those gentler refinement processes, its results were naturally the best.
Because it preserved the treasure's spirituality to the greatest possible extent.
Outside the valley, mountain winds blew; the spring rain had just cleared.
The valley was utterly silent. A gentle wind passed over the Swordsmanship Platform, scattering green bamboo leaves.
In the middle of the broad platform, a man lay utterly motionless.
Fallen leaves already covered several parts of his body.
Suddenly, a bamboo leaf fell with a drop of dew, landing in his palm.
"..."
Song Yan suddenly shivered and slowly opened his eyes.
"Hiss..."
His head hurt.
It was not because