Yang Qing suffers a loss

The white lines and the plain rippled like the surface of a lake when the drop of blood came into contact with it. That red drop seemed to sink below the plain as it burrowed into one of the white lines. 

It rapidly crisscrossed along the white lines like it was a pathway guiding it to something. The faster it moved, the brighter Yang Qing's white light and the grey flame flashed. The rapid crisscrossing went on for almost ten minutes before it finally settled down in on a white line that was in the northwestern part of the plain.

"Ignite,"

Yang Qing muttered from within the white cloak once he saw the blood drop finally settle down. The drop ignited in a deep blue flame. The peach wood which was the only object that had remained unused during the whole thing, darted towards the blue flame.

"This is it, I hope it connects."