First, reflect upon oneself, capture the vital breath, and then use the pre-prepared object of attachment to ignite and trigger it.
Two streams of spiritual light merge like yin and yang, gradually becoming clear and distinct, revealing a definite phenomenon.
"Foster father..."
Zhao Pijiang sat upright with a solemn expression, lowering his head respectfully.
The person in the mirror was an old man with a weak aura, on the verge of decline.
With sparse white hair and dark spots on his face, he seemed to be nearing the end of his life.
"Step back for a moment and observe the Meridian Sword Sect's subsequent maneuvers.
Over the years, Yan Xin has made no move, making your father anxious.
In the entire Red County Divine Land, fewer than ten people have entered that Fallen Immortal Mansion.
Now, the only ones still breathing are him, Daoist Qiu from the Observatory Tower, and that fellow from the Three Yang Sect surnamed Chen."
