A few hours later, it was deep into the night.
Inside the room, the oil lamp had long been extinguished. Only the cold, clear moonlight filtered through the paper window, blanketing the room in a hazy, silver glow.
Fang Han sat cross-legged on the bed, his eyes gently closed and his face serene. Only the long, powerful breaths passing his lips revealed that he was in a state of deep cultivation.
The Xunfeng Technique circulated continuously. His pale green Inner Qi, like a rushing river, launched assault after assault between the already overflowing Zhongfu Acupoint and the next checkpoint—the Weijing Acupoint.
The bottleneck between the Early and Middle Stage of the Eighth Grade, while nowhere near as stubborn and resilient as the barrier of a Great Realm, was by no means easy to overcome.
His Inner Qi surged, crashing against the formless barrier and creating a muffled roar that only Fang Han himself could perceive.
