Refining the Heavens 4 (炼天四)

Chapter 42: Turtle Fusion

Epiphany (顿悟), State of Nirvana (涅), or Trance (入道), in cultivation they are just different words for the same thing.

The most commonly known meditative states are the pure-self state of cultivation (纯我境界) and the selfless state of cultivation (无我境界).

However, there are also plenty of lesser known ones.

A cultivator may gain enlightenment from a mere spark of inspiration and attain bottomless wisdom in the path of Dao or gain a completely revolutionary idea.

This is the kind of trance that Kairos had entered.

As he chased after the ways to improve his technique, he had caught onto a lead and fervently followed until he could reach his goal. In his quest to find a solution amidst the countless mysteries, he couldn't spare even a strand of attention.

This isn't just because it is unsafe to err when creating new Ki pathways, but more importantly in order to save precious time.

Kairos is already considerably fast. Few could match his ability when it comes to things like customising techniques or making new ones.

Fewer have his confidence.

The cost of failure is great enough to deter most from even trying.

If one's Ki moved into a wrong passageway within the countless meridian channels in the body, the lightest kind of rebound damage would be a regress in years of cultivation, but the more common result would be overcome by madness and tormented till death or turn into a great explosion after one's Ki destabilised.

But despite these dangers, Kairos felt certain to continue as though it is the only way.

Unfortunately, his speed is still nowhere enough.

When he was forcefully awakened from his stupor, his chain of thoughts disappeared like the morning mists before the rising sun.

Kairos looked around, uncertain of how much time had passed. From a glance he could tell that the position of the sun had barely moved, at most it would've been a couple of minutes.

At the same time, he took in the changes in his surroundings.

*Bam Bam Bam*

*Bam Bam Bam*

*Bam Bam Bam*

His heart is already pounding loudly long before his mind recognised the scene.

Each bang in his chest sounded like a hammer striking a nail into his soul.

The screams of the dying around him, tunnelled into his ears like vengeful ghosts that refuse to part.

It echoed into his soul and cold sweat rolled off his brows.

It's one thing to be in such a slaughter, and entirely another thing when he had a torch of hope in this nightmare that refuses to light.

He could stop all this... no, he must.

But, the trail had ended once his trance disappeared.

Without a workable Immolation Rain or some other ways to protect themselves, they must fight until the War God Tattoo loses its might.

Perhaps they might not have that time and even more barbarian soldiers will come.

Who knows how many teams are prepared to sacrifice themselves to kill them?

Though the Frosthrals wouldn't have as many B rankers to waste like Saint Empire, with this strength they only needed less than a tenth of their number to wipe out this army.