Time flies. It has been a year since the “Plaza Day.”
During this year, the power struggles on Earth remained relatively unchanged. At least, the ultimate war between the Senate and the Merchant Guild, which many had feared, did not happen.
This was naturally the result of mutual fear and restraint between the two factions. The Emperor of the Empire also played a mediating role. As the supreme ruler of the Galactic Empire, he naturally would not allow his stronghold to become a battlefield.
The compromise reached between the Senate and the Merchant Guild was that neither would interfere in the affairs of the sword sects. Thus, no senator dared to target Yang Hao during the past year, and the Merchant Guild also refrained from offering any support to the Dan Ding Sword Sect.
The struggle between the Ten Sword Sects and the Dan Ding Sword Sect became the hidden undercurrent beneath the seemingly calm surface.
After a year, this struggle finally reached a clear outcome.
The Dan Ding Sword Sect achieved a resounding victory in the competition for noble disciples, almost crushing the Ten Sword Sects beyond recovery.
Out of nearly a million high-ranking nobles in the Empire, seventy percent favored the Dan Ding Sword Sect.
Part of this was due to the shocking events of “Plaza Day.” Another reason was that the Ten Sword Sects had lost five of their legendary swords, making it difficult for them to justify their dominance within the Empire.
Moreover, the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s training required nothing more than swallowing some pills—simple and convenient. And occasionally, four dragons could be seen flying around the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s estate, a spectacle not commonly seen elsewhere.
Thus, nobles flocked to the sect like moths to a flame. After several rounds of recruitment, the number of outer disciples in the Dan Ding Sword Sect surpassed one hundred thousand, while the inner disciples personally selected and trained by Yang Hao reached a thousand.
Drawing from past experience, Yang Hao knew full well that in times of real conflict, the outer disciples would be of no practical use. They were mainly there to pay tuition fees and add to the sect’s prestige. The real value lay in the inner disciples. Under the guidance of Hun Yuanzi, Yang Hao indeed taught them the techniques of the Dan Ding Sword Sect.
However, he cleverly withheld the most crucial alchemical methods. In other words, these inner disciples, already foundation-set, had to rely on Yang Hao for their pills. Without them, they might not even last three days.
In this way, Yang Hao effortlessly controlled over a thousand noble youths with bright futures.
Through secret arrangements by the Merchant Guild, some of these nobles were dispatched to various star systems as governors. The balance of power between the Merchant Guild and the Senate gradually shifted once again.
One winter evening in the Imperial Capital, the moon shone brightly, casting a faint golden glow across the sky. This was another of the Emperor’s image projects.
A young nobleman, dressed in fine attire, quietly entered the back gate of the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s estate, where someone was already waiting for him.
To his surprise, the one greeting him was Zhu Ge Jian, a figure of extraordinary status within the Dan Ding Group.
Over the past year, Zhu Ge Jian had become an almost mythical figure. As Yang Hao’s influence grew rapidly, Zhu Ge Jian had risen to become a revered elder within the sword sect, enjoying a life of honor and overseeing the entire business operations of the Dan Ding Group. Ordinary people needed weeks of advance appointments just to see him.
Yet, on this day, the old man braved the cold wind to personally welcome the young noble.
Seeing the young noble, Zhu Ge Jian’s face lit up with joy: “You’re here. Come quickly. We’ve been waiting for you.”
The young noble simply nodded without speaking, his pale face betraying inner turmoil.
The two hurried toward the Yellow Mansion, the central building of the estate where Yang Hao resided. Around it were hidden guards, and at the four corners stood dragon towers, each guarded by a wind-dragon.
Yet, as Zhu Ge Jian and the young noble approached, they were not stopped, nor even announced—they simply entered the Yellow Mansion directly.
“Arrived?” Yang Hao put down his work, clearly expecting someone.
“Arrived.” Zhu Ge Jian stepped aside, revealing the young noble. “It’s him.”
Yang Hao nodded and tossed a pill to the young noble. He fumbled to catch it, swallowed it, and after a while, a flush returned to his pale face.
This young noble was a secret member of the Dan Ding Sword Sect. A year ago, Yang Hao had tasked Zhu Ge Jian with establishing a covert branch. All members of this secret branch were spies embedded in other factions, dedicated to intelligence gathering.
Yang Hao controlled these individuals with powerful Dan Sect pills, ensuring their unwavering loyalty.
“Speak,” Yang Hao said, seeing the young noble had regained his composure.
“In ten days, all the senators will leave the Senate Mountain, destination unknown,” the noble reported briefly but with immense significance. “Only four sword sects will remain to guard the mountain, with no other defenses.”
Yang Hao’s expression remained unchanged, but he took a deep breath and slowly approached the young noble.
The noble looked up in surprise.
Yang Hao’s eyes blazed with an intense light, and a tremendous force lifted the noble into the air, pinning him against the wall. Yang Hao’s spiritual power surged forth, invading the noble’s mind, probing his thoughts.
After a long while, visibly weakened, Yang Hao finally released the noble, tossing him a few more pills before signaling him to leave.
“Boss?” Zhu Ge Jian was puzzled.
“It’s true,” Yang Hao wiped sweat from his brow. His spiritual power had grown stronger—it could now even delve into the subconscious of those with weak wills. However, this was still extremely draining, unlike the innate abilities of the dragons.
Zhu Ge Jian didn’t understand why Yang Hao was so concerned about the Senate’s movements. The noble had once belonged to one of the Ten Sword Sects’ four guardian sects, responsible for supplying materials to the Senate. Yang Hao had ordered Zhu Ge Jian to spare no cost to recruit him into the secret branch. This was the first time Yang Hao had personally heard intelligence about the Senate.
Soon after, Long Yun also entered, summoned by Yang Hao.
Among the Dan Ding Sword Sect, only Long Yun and Zhu Ge Jian stood second to Yang Hao—one managing commerce, the other overseeing the sword group.
Yang Hao remained silent for a while, as if hesitating.
“Something happened?” Long Yun frowned. “Are we going to war again?”
But Yang Hao’s thoughts were far more complex.
After a moment, he gave his orders: “In ten days, I have something to do. If I don’t return, Long Yun will take over the sword sect, Zhu Ge Jian will manage the Dan Ding Group, and He De will oversee the Shen Yu Autonomous Territory. If I’m confirmed dead, don’t even think of resisting. Immediately take everyone and retreat to Shen Yu—it might be the only way to save your lives.”
“Goodness! Boss, what are you planning to do?” Zhu Ge Jian was shocked. He had assumed Yang Hao was merely fighting the Ten Sword Sects, but now it seemed far more dangerous.
Yang Hao said nothing, only sighing.
Long Yun slammed the table angrily: “Damn it, Yang Hao, whatever you’re doing, we’ll follow you. Don’t talk like this. Who dares touch us now in the Empire?”
Long Yun had a point. The Dan Ding Sword Sect was now at its peak, even the military gave it wide berth, and the Ten Sword Sects couldn’t even raise their heads. Unless the Nine Elder Senators acted, no one would dare harm Yang Hao.
Yet Yang Hao knew this mission was far more perilous than anything before: “In ten days, I must go to the Senate Mountain to do something. It must be done, and sooner is better than later.”
“Senate Mountain!!” Long Yun was genuinely shocked.
Zhu Ge Jian had already turned pale, unable to speak.
Senate Mountain was the heart of the Senate and the stronghold of the Ten Sword Sects, as well as the resting place of the至尊’s physical body. Even the Emperor could not enter without the approval of the Nine Elder Senators.
Yang Hao planning to infiltrate it alone—was there any outcome other than death?
Seeing their expressions, Yang Hao awkwardly reassured them: “I must go. It’s my destiny.”
“If it’s destiny, then I’ll bring people and storm the mountain with you,” Long Yun declared fiercely.
Yang Hao knew these two had shared life and death with him and wouldn’t let him go alone. But after all they had built, he couldn’t allow unnecessary sacrifices. He smiled, feigning ease: “If you charge up the mountain with people, it would be suicide. I can sneak in alone.
Besides, I’m not going to assassinate anyone—I’m just stealing something that rightfully belongs to me. Nothing big.”
Though Yang Hao said this, Long Yun and the others still felt it was too risky for him to go alone. If Yang Hao hadn’t already prepared for the worst, he wouldn’t have arranged the sect’s future affairs.
They tried to persuade him, but Yang Hao was resolute.
They didn’t know that Yang Hao had made no progress in cultivation for a year—he desperately needed the two master-level pills already prepared on the Senate Mountain.
He had no choice but to go.
Moreover, the timing was perfect with the senators’ collective departure.
Winter still gripped the Imperial Capital, but the Senate Mountain remained evergreen, blooming with flowers.
Yet on this day, over a hundred senators left the mountain, destination unknown. This was an extremely secret matter, known only to a few. Though the Senate Mountain was a cultivation site, it was in fact the Senate’s stronghold. For the senators to abandon it meant something even more secret was afoot.
Shortly after the senators left, the four guardian sword sects guarding the mountain discovered something shocking.
The four dragons, who had broken free from the Beast Heart Sword Group a year ago, had reappeared—each near one of the four sects.
Leaders of the Xiu Mo Lin, Shen Shu Sword Group, Huan Yu Men, and Yan Clan all received urgent reports.
The dragons were squatting in the woods near each sect, straining with constipation.
Like humans, dragons in a bad mood could be dangerous.
A bad mood might lead to dragon breath or a swipe of their claws—disaster for the nearby sects.
Thus, the four sect leaders immediately dispatched nearly all sword masters to form defensive lines, surrounding the four dragons and ready to kill them at the slightest sign of attack.
The suddenness of the order caused chaos among the sword masters—some were on duty, others just off night shifts, and some on leave. All were recalled to monitor the dragons defecating.
This naturally caused great disorder.
The four guardian sects guarding the Senate Mountain were thrown into chaos.
No one noticed a faint shadow slipping through the chaos, dashing up the only path to the Senate Mountain like lightning.
As this shadow reached the mountain, the previously sunny weather suddenly turned stormy, and without warning, a hailstorm began.
The hailstones were oddly sharp, like ice spikes, capable of smashing through a person’s skull.
With ice spikes falling from the sky, the sword masters hiding in the bushes along the path had no choice but to flee for cover, seeking shelter under any available roofs.
They could only hope this strange weather would end soon so they could return home and have a cup of hot tea.
Unnoticed amidst the chaos, a figure darted through the hailstorm, climbing higher and higher toward the Senate Mountain.
This figure was, of course, Yang Hao.
Taking advantage of the senators’ collective absence, Yang Hao launched a lightning-fast assault. Though the Senate Mountain was now empty, the four guardian sects were no joke. If Yang Hao’s movements were discovered, a single electronic signal could summon all the senators back.
Thus, Yang Hao deployed the four wind-dragons to distract the four guardian sects, while using the Icefall Frost Sword to simulate a hailstorm, driving the hidden guards from their posts.
Then, using the Light Flow Shadow Boots, Yang Hao safely reached an altitude of 3,000 meters on the Senate Mountain.
On the cliffside stood dozens of solemn temples.
This was the Galactic Empire’s Senate—an institution revered like a temple.
Yet today, it was truly empty—no one remained, not even a caretaker.
Yang Hao paused briefly, discussed with Hun Yuanzi, and ultimately abandoned the temporary plan to loot the Senate, continuing his ascent.
Yang Hao had always pondered what might have driven the senators to abandon their stronghold. But for him, regardless of the reason, today was his sole opportunity. If he let this chance slip away, he might never acquire the two master-grade pills.
And without them, he could never avenge his master or assassinate the Supreme One.
The Senate Mountain was once known as the Bronze Furnace Mountain, the ancestral home of the Dan Ding Sword Sect for thousands of years.
With Hun Yuanzi guiding him, Yang Hao quickly found the sword graveyard.
This sword graveyard had always belonged solely to the Dan Ding Sword Sect. Even now, it remained unchanged from when Hun Yuanzi had undergone body dissolution a thousand years ago.
At an altitude of 4,000 meters, the sword graveyard was a platform jutting from the mountainside, accessible only after navigating half a mountain and several ravines. It was only a few zhang in diameter, with cliffs on three sides, extremely perilous.
As Yang Hao arrived at the sword graveyard, he was stunned. The scenery far exceeded his expectations. In his mind, a sword graveyard should be a place for discarded swords, likely rusted and useless.
Yet, to his surprise, the place was bitterly cold, filled with killing intent. Tens of thousands of broken swords were embedded in the ground, still radiating divine light. Any one of them could be sold as a divine artifact in the Empire.
Thousands of years had passed, yet the sword graveyard still preserved the flying swords of generations of Dan Ding disciples.
Yang Hao was deeply moved.
So moved, in fact, that he didn’t notice his foot stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a low whistle sounded nearby, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao’s presence.
Instantly, hundreds of broken swords responded to the call, vibrating violently before rising from the cracks and flying toward Yang Hao.
Even broken, these were once the flying swords of Dan Ding cultivators—powerful beyond doubt. Yang Hao was caught off guard, unaware of what was happening.
Hun Yuanzi cried out: “Oh no! The sword spirit! How could I forget about it!”
“What sword spirit?” Yang Hao dodged the flying swords with difficulty.
“This sword graveyard is guarded by a sword spirit, which is why these swords weren’t stolen by those damned senators. I actually forgot about it,” Hun Yuanzi scolded himself but showed no sign of helping. “This… the sword spirit attacks any living being that enters the graveyard. My obedient disciple, you’d better act quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed, thinking how tragic it was to have such a senile master.
But the hundreds of flying swords were indeed a powerful attack, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Worse still, wherever Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would suddenly leap out to ambush him.
If that weren’t enough, a terrifying enemy soon emerged. Before Yang Hao appeared a strange beast.
This beast had been hiding within the sword graveyard, awakened when Yang Hao stepped into the red circle.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, horse hooves, covered in golden-red scales, emitting flames that were neither physical nor spiritual.
This beast immediately spat out a jet of heavenly fire. Yang Hao, already overwhelmed by the onslaught of flying swords, could barely defend himself. Fortunately, he had come prepared, having swallowed plenty of丹鼎派 pills in advance, his body brimming with sword qi.
A blue light flashed from Yang Hao’s body as Ying Yue roared forth, spreading icy coldness like heavenly frost descending from the heavens.
Everything around him froze under the Icefall Frost Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the graveyard, while the beast was sealed in a massive blue ice block.
“Dare to ambush me!” Yang Hao seized the opportunity for revenge. “Let me show you my Flame Dragon Sword!”
A fire-elemental beast like this could be silently refined using the Flame Dragon Sword, potentially producing a millennium-old pill.
Yang Hao’s body radiated flames, and Ying Yue transformed into a fire attribute, ready to unleash its power.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach ached, and he let out several loud, hot farts. The sound was like thunder, and the heat was so intense that if not for his heat-resistant clothing, he might have burned holes in his pants.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao felt Hun Yuanzi interfering. Somehow, the old man had poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword qi as flatulence.
“Silence!” Hun Yuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control. He knew Hun Yuanzi was taking over his body. In fact, Hun Yuanzi had always had the ability to control Yang Hao’s body, though he rarely used it.
But today, Hun Yuanzi seemed particularly strange. He was in a bad mood, which had worsened since arriving at the Senate Mountain.
Seeing the sword spirit guarding the sword graveyard, Hun Yuanzi’s mood became even more sorrowful.
Hun Yuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand gently and lovingly toward the ice block sealing the sword spirit.
The beast’s flames reignited, and the ice melted in a second.
Yang Hao finally understood—the Icefall Frost Sword couldn’t truly contain this beast; it had chosen not to escape. Now, the beast began to cry. Who had ever seen a beast’s tears? This strange creature knelt at Yang Hao’s feet, weeping bitterly. Its tears were red with fire, scorching the ground wherever they fell.
“Qilin’er, you’re still here…” Hun Yuanzi’s voice was filled with sorrow, as if reuniting after a thousand years.
This beast was actually the legendary Qilin, the king of all beasts from ancient times, now transformed into a sword spirit guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand gently stroked the Qilin’s head. This king of beasts, now as docile as a kitten, nuzzled against Yang Hao’s leg, whimpering and crying as if trying to release a thousand years of tears.
Yang Hao’s tears also flowed. He cried for Hun Yuanzi. Now, he finally understood Hun Yuanzi’s mood.
This place was not the Senate Mountain, but the Bronze Furnace Mountain. Not the Senate, but the ancestral home of the Dan Ding Sword Sect. This was where Hun Yuanzi had once stood at the peak of his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had trained and been hailed as the greatest genius in history.
Every blade of grass, every tree, every broken sword’s owner had been like family to Hun Yuanzi. Even the guardian beast had grown up with him.
Yet after a thousand years of waiting, everything had changed. The Bronze Furnace Mountain had become the Senate Mountain, the ancestral home occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the guardian beast remained.
How could Hun Yuanzi not weep?
The old man, the young man, and the beast wept together in the sword graveyard. The cold wind howled, as if the world had paused in time. A thousand years felt like a fleeting moment, yet the glory of the past was gone.
After a long while, Hun Yuanzi finally regained his composure, sighing deeply: “Qilin’er is the guardian beast of the Dan Ding Sword Sect, accompanying each generation of disciples as they grew. He has guarded the Bronze Furnace Mountain for countless years. A thousand years ago, when our enemy attacked, Qilin’er fought to the death. Though killed, his divine power refused to dissipate, transforming into the sword spirit to guard the sword graveyard, ensuring its safety for a thousand years.”
Yang Hao was overwhelmed with emotion. Though he had only recently joined the Dan Ding Sword Sect, Hun Yuanzi had entrusted him with life and death, making Yang Hao feel a deep sense of belonging. Seeing the thousand-year-old ancestral home and the loyal guardian beast still standing, Yang Hao felt a loyalty far stronger than any human’s.
A strange belief arose in Yang Hao’s heart. He extended his other hand, placing it on Qilin’s forehead, solemnly saying: “Qilin’er, I promise—I will restore the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s ancestral home, returning this mountain to the Bronze Furnace Mountain, and you shall once again be its guardian beast.”
Though his voice was not loud, it was filled with determination. Qilin’s body trembled, its flames burning brighter than ever. After a thousand years of dormancy, its heart began to burn once more.
Hun Yuanzi finally calmed down, watching Qilin slowly retreat, reigniting his fighting spirit: “Disciple, we must focus on the mission.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality. They were still on enemy territory. Today, he had sneaked in to retrieve the master’s elixir. He couldn’t let sentimentality jeopardize the mission.
“Master, where did you hide those two precious pills?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. Surely you’re not senile enough to forget.”
“A thousand years is a long time.”
“What’s so long about it? My little lover, Xin Mei, might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s still as beautiful and fit as ever.”
“I remember now.” Stimulated by Yang Hao, Hun Yuanzi suddenly recalled. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao was happy for a second before his mood plummeted: “You really know how to hide things. Why put them in a sword? This is the sword graveyard, with tens of thousands of swords. How am I supposed to find them?”
“Where better to hide water than in water?” Hun Yuanzi seemed proud.
“Right, right. If I could live here forever, it wouldn’t matter. But we’re sneaking in—we need to act fast. If the senators come back and find a thief, they’ll kill me.”
“Then quickly use the Perception Technique to search. I’ll tell you what the sword looks like,” Hun Yuanzi suggested.
This was indeed a solution. Yang Hao’s Perception Technique had grown stronger, especially with his enhanced spiritual power. He could now examine every detail within his range to find what he needed.
The sword Hun Yuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords could be categorized as male or female. Male swords were broad and powerful, while female swords were light and nimble, often adorned with intricate patterns.
Yang Hao was searching for a female sword with elaborate patterns. This sword was three feet long, one inch wide, with golden and red patterns. It was said that when blood seeped into the patterns, it created dazzling patterns.
This sword was historically famous, known as the “Red Mausoleum Sword.”
Yang Hao meticulously searched through the tens of thousands of swords. Even with the Perception Technique, it took him a long time to find the Red Mausoleum Sword on a cliffside. Surprisingly, it was intact, still embedded in the cliffside, though overgrown with vegetation, making it hard to spot.
Yang Hao pulled out the Red Mausoleum Sword. A sharp whistle pierced the sky. A red light flickered across the blade. Yang Hao rarely saw a sword forged with such care by a sword immortal a thousand years ago. He gently stroked the patterns, which seemed less deep than Hun Yuanzi had described.
“Ahh…” Yang Hao accidentally cut his finger on the sharp blade. A drop of blood fell onto the sword.
The blood instantly seeped into the Red Mausoleum Sword. The previously plain blade suddenly displayed vivid golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Truly a divine artifact,” Yang Hao marveled.
But Hun Yuanzi began to cry again.
This time, he wept like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss, unsure how to comfort his master. Returning to this place after a thousand years had made Hun Yuanzi emotionally fragile. Thinking of his thousand years of lonely wandering in space, driven only by the hope of returning here, the sorrow was unbearable.
After a while, Hun Yuanzi composed himself: “This sword belonged to my wife.”
“Oh,” Yang Hao finally understood. “Your wife’s sword?”
“This was the token of love I gave to your master’s wife,” Hun Yuanzi sighed. “She cherished it deeply, never parting from it.”
“But why is it in the sword graveyard? This sword isn’t broken,” Yang Hao asked, puzzled.
Hun Yuanzi fell silent, then sighed again: “Back then, when our enemy attacked the mountain, many of our sect members were killed. I couldn’t protect the ancestral home, so I told your master’s wife to flee first. At that time, she was pregnant with my child. She flew away on this sword, but before she could leave the Bronze Furnace Mountain, our enemy struck her down with a flying sword, reducing her body to pieces. The Red Mausoleum Sword, losing its master’s spiritual connection, flew to the sword graveyard.”
Holding the Red Mausoleum Sword, Yang Hao seemed to see the immortal battle a thousand years ago—flying swords in the sky, immortals falling one by one.
The Dan Ding Sword Sect had once been one of the greatest cultivation sects, yet it was wiped out in a single night, revealing the ferocity of the battle.
Hun Yuanzi began chanting a long incantation, one even Yang Hao couldn’t fully grasp. The incantation resonated with the Red Mausoleum Sword, causing it to vibrate violently. The red and golden patterns floated into the air, weaving into strange flowers.
Above these flowers appeared two spirit pills. One was the size of a fingernail, blacker than the deepest night, giving the sensation of falling into endless darkness. The other was the size of a longan fruit, pure white like frost, exuding a sacred, untainted purity.
These were the two master pills of the Dan Ding Sword Sect—the Cold Solitude Pill and the Frost Step Pill.
Hun Yuanzi had refined these two supreme pills with power approaching that of a sage, intending to preserve his strength after exacting revenge. He had sealed them within the Red Mausoleum Sword.
But fate had other plans. Hun Yuanzi’s final assassination attempt failed, leading to his body being forced into dissolution. His infant form suffered severe injuries, compelling him to wander through the cosmos. Had he not encountered Yang Hao, Hun Yuanzi would never have had the chance to see these two master pills again.
“Well, I guess I’m the lucky one,” Yang Hao grinned widely. He knew how difficult it was to refine high-grade pills. Although the Dan Ding Sword Sect specialized in pill cultivation, the process remained extremely complicated. Now, with two master-level pills in hand, advancing two stages to become a sword saint was finally within reach.
Seeing Yang Hao’s eagerness to swallow both pills at once, Hun Yuanzi sneered, “If you’re determined to die, then go ahead. Eat them.”
“What? Are they poisonous? Or have they expired?” Yang Hao checked the dates on the pills. “It’s been a thousand years. What’s the shelf life of pills from the Dan鼎 Sect?”
“You’re old, but these pills are still effective,” Hun Yuanzi grumbled. “You think they’re candy? Eat them all at once, and you’ll die. These are supreme pills, two among the nine of the Dan Ding Sword Sect. Others spend their entire lives trying to obtain even a single one. And you want to swallow both at once?”
“So what should I do?” Yang Hao stared at the two divine pills, truly at a loss. “Don’t tell me I have to wait centuries between each one?”
“You must enter a secluded cultivation session. First, bathe and change your clothes, then take one pill and break through to a new stage. Afterwards, you will need two months to gradually refine the energy and restore your connection to the universe before taking the second pill,” Hun Yuanzi instructed patiently. “The Cold Solitude and Frost Step stages, although not the most crucial, carry intense negative energy. One mistake could ruin your entire cultivation path, so you must be extremely cautious.”
“What happens if I eat both pills at once?” Yang Hao persisted.
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