Time slipped away amidst the daily routine of cultivation. In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed.
During this time, Yang Jing visited Liu Maolin every two or three days. Thanks to the nourishing medicine and careful nursing, Liu Maolin's injuries were steadily improving. He was conscious now, but still confined to bed, unable to get up for the time being.
This morning, at the training grounds in the front courtyard of Sun's Martial Arts Hall.
Sunlight filtered through sparse clouds onto the training grounds, where Yang Jing was engrossed in practicing the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
The wind from his fists, charged with Inner Strength, left faint white trails in the air with every punch. He was only a paper-thin barrier away from the Peak of Dark Energy.
