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In the blink of an eye, half a year had passed.
During that time, the group ventured in and out of the Hall of Life roughly once every two months.
A quarter of that time was spent on the journey itself, three-quarters on internalizing what they’d gained, and when it came to actually contemplating the painting, they only had two days per trip.
Now, the final cutoff point had arrived.
There was, at most, another year and a half before the Great Upheaval of Heaven and Earth. That meant this was the last relatively safe window to travel from the Eastern Sea to the Deathless Tomb in the Western Extremes.
Put plainly, if they didn’t leave now, they were placing their lives on the line. Either they’d break through to second rank, or they'd be gambling that they'd somehow survive the coming cataclysm. The only other path was death.
But everyone knew once the spiritual energy vanished, once Yin and Yang collapsed, who could possibly come out unscathed?
More news had arrived from Central Capital.
That imperial hub of martial glory was already running out of ninth rank meat fields. Martial artists were regressing in cultivation, and waves of refugees were flooding the Eastern Sea.
They poured in like fish and shrimp scrambling back to the ocean after a...
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