After the inner elixir that had puzzled Lin Yi for a long time disappeared, and his advancement in cultivation broke through this shackles, it was not only his strength that improved by leaps and bounds, but also his terrifying ability to heal injuries.
Whether it was Xi Ruyu, the military advisor, or Xi Ruyu himself, if any of them caused injuries to Lin Yi, even if it fell on a spiritual mind practitioner, that spiritual mind practitioner would have been dead long ago.
However, it doesn't take a day or night for those horrific wounds in his body to recover quickly.
The most important thing is that others cannot know at all... This kind of injury healing speed will become faster as his body becomes stronger and his strength continues to increase.
…
The true energy shattered in front of him, like a wave crashing into his body.
Some of these broken true essences belonged to the dead members of the sword pavilion, and the rest belonged to the killed practitioners of the Northern Wei Dynasty.
These true essences continuously impacted Lin Yi's heavy armor and penetrated into Tianbi's treasured clothes. The moment they came into contact with his skin, they merged with his inner energy and turned into extremely pure lines.
The air flow washed through his body.
His power comes from the physical body and from the energy of grains, but in his perception at this time, these foreign essences are full of vitality, carrying the essence of the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, like spring rain moistening the parched land.
Likewise, it repaired his broken flesh and meridians, allowing his flesh and blood to grow more rapidly and robustly.
He has begun to understand that fighting to support war is the true meaning of Da Jura.
In the constant brokenness and rebirth, it is tempered like steel, and then gains greater strength.
Those practitioners in the world who practice Zhenyuan Kung Fu grow like a spring rain through meditation and practice, and his Da Kura Way is to grow in such arduous and cruel battles.
This kind of fighting, for him, is cultivation.
The process of becoming stronger through continuous practice.
…
At this time, no one knew that there was someone who felt similar to him.
He is Wang Pingyang.
Mr. Tiancenti is now covered in scars.
Seeing such killings and the crazy Northern Wei army, he was probably one of the calmest people in Zhongli City at the moment.
He defeated himself in Meishan, and until now, he was even more convinced that his choice was right.
He returned to the camp behind the broken city wall and entered the tent filled with the smell of medicine.
He did not immediately inquire about the injuries of Chen Jinru and others. His eyes fell on the fat man placed on a corner for a long time.
This medical officer named Wang Xianrui had been in a coma for too long, but his body did not suffer from muscle atrophy like people who have been comatose for too long. Instead, his figure appeared a little swollen, perhaps because of too much medication.
"How is he?"
Wang Pingyang asked Huang Qiutang softly, who was looking at a certain potion attentively.
"It stands to reason that the Qi movement has been smooth, and I should be able to wake up a long time ago. I just don't know what went wrong, and it has nothing to do with my medicine stone." Huang Qiutang raised her head and looked at Wang Pingyang. She already understood Wang Pingyang's character very well.
When she looked into Wang Pingyang's eyes, she understood what he was thinking.
"You decided to start using his kind of technique here?"
"We have agreed before. Unless we try it, you and I don't know what problems this technique has in the end, and what its intentions are. What's more, there are probably few places in the world where there are so many people dead at this time, and it's
People keep dying. This is indeed the fastest place to practice his technique."
Wang Pingyang took a deep breath slowly, exhaled slowly, and then continued: "The most important thing is that I always feel that whether it is here or on the northern border, the most dangerous enemy is not Wang Yuanying of Zhongshan. It is always him. If
If we cannot defeat him, we cannot win this war."
Huang Qiutang looked at him and said nothing.
She naturally agreed with Wang Pingyang's words in her heart, and she was even worried that the Demon Sect would appear in this place.
But Wang Pingyang's choice to do this is no different from testing poison with his own body.
She has no nephews. If she did, they would be around Wang Pingyang's age.
In her mind, although she did not consider Wang Pingyang as a nephew, the longer she stayed in contact with him, the more she felt that it would be a blessing to have such a nephew.
"I am also from the South. Lin Yi cannot be responsible for defending the city alone. If this is the case, it will be as glorious as those in the sword pavilion."
He whispered this to Huang Qiutang, and then left the tent.
…
There was a heroic aura everywhere inside and outside the city, but for Wang Pingyang, who decided to start practicing the Demon Sect's technique, what filled and wrapped around his body was the fresh aura of death.
There are some things that you will never know exist unless you touch them.
But ever since he knew of its existence, even if he wanted to stay away from it, this cold, smooth and tempting smell has always filled his surroundings, just like the cold skin of the dead Northern Wei girl, which has always been close to his body.
Naturally, he often thought of the dead Northern Wei girl.
It's just that he is no longer as scared, confused and helpless as he was then.
He cannot change the past, but he can correct the future and decide the path he wants to take.
He began to practice.
In the fresh breath of death that filled his body, many strands of vitality that even the original Taoist could not detect were quickly condensed by him and continued to pour into his body.
Wisps of fresh true energy began to emerge from his dry meridians. To others, it might be very powerful, but to him, it was full of strange and dangerous true energy.
He slowly walked towards the broken city wall in front of him.
There are countless fresh and powerful energies there.
Lin Yi's cultivation has grown at an unimaginable rate, and he will do the same, as long as his body can bear it.
…
No one in Zhongli City noticed his practice, but on the other side of the river, when Wang Pingyang's body turned into a whirlpool, constantly absorbing the vitality, it stopped in a carriage in the shadow behind an ordnance, and a
A cultivator in black robes opened his eyes.
This practitioner wears a strange iron helmet that looks like a bird's head.
He has a round target-like tattoo on his forehead.
His skin was like dark rock that had been blown by the cold wind for thousands of years.
Feeling the smell of the same kind, this demon sect member did not feel dangerous, but smiled slightly, showing his white teeth.
His teeth were exceptionally white, so white they shone with a cold light.
At this moment, in the tent filled with the smell of medicine behind the city wall, the eyelashes of the medical officer who had been unconscious trembled slightly.