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In the Starry Palace, a white-robed Daoist sat cross-legged. Even from up close, he looked perfectly dead; he had no pulse to speak of, and he was not breathing.
A long time passed before he finally exhaled slowly. It would have been a suffocating experience to other people, but to him, this was a constant rhythm—breathe in slowly, hold it in for a while, exhale slowly, wait for a while until the next breath—that made him appear like an ancient tortoise in slumber.
He opened his eyes slowly and finally felt himself. A look of relief spread over his face.
Just as I thought, spending too long on crafting really does affect my cultivation. Good thing my foundation's solid enough to keep things steady.
Right before starting to work on his defensive treasure, he had just broken through to the sixth stage of Golden Core. It should have been the time to press forward and consolidate his cultivation, yet instead, he spent over a year processing Demon Emperor Profound Rock's remains. The prolonged effort took a heavy toll on both his...
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