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Becoming a Sage Starts From Condensing the Essence of Time

Just now, a female sword immortal flew past you on her sword, and you looked up. You caught a glimpse of the female sword immortal from a hundred years ago who slew a demon dragon in the Boundless Eastern Sea. She was at the pinnacle of her power in the mortal realm, and you felt something in your heart, condensing the essence of time into the technique of "Dragon Slayer." Just now, an old beggar passed by you, and you glanced at him. You caught a glimpse of the old beggar from three hundred years ago who knocked on the tightly closed gates of heaven with his dog-beating stick, laughing at the immortals in the sky. You condensed the essence of time into the technique of "God Beater." Just now, a scholar asked you for a sip of wine, and you squinted at him. You observed the scholar from five hundred years ago who studied the sword by lamplight at night, dressed in white. On the battlefield at the border, he decapitated countless members of the enemy race, his aura engulfing the vast land like a ferocious beast. You condensed the essence of time into the technique of "Enduring Spirit." ...... An Le traveled through time to this chaotic world, where life was fragile and worthless. Fortunately, An Le could see the past experiences of others, whether glorious, sorrowful, or helpless, and then condense them into the essence of time to make himself stronger. As a young practitioner, he cultivated his spirit and accumulated the essence of time. With a calm and peaceful heart, he quietly knocked on the door of cultivation, peacefully becoming a sage.

Li Hongtian · Eastern
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260 Chs

Nirvana Fire Is Like Fireworks, Bodhisattva, Put Your Palms Together and Help Me (3)

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

"The Literary Department has already changed. It's impossible for the three Headmasters of the Literary Department to take that half a step and ascend to the Sacred Confucian Realm. Maintaining the current Literary Department is nothing but a delusion."

"None of the 3,000 Confucian scholars in the Literary Department can gather the righteousness. The only one who can gather the righteousness doesn't enter the Literary Department. Tell me, is it funny?"

Di Cang shook his head.

Second Headmaster Pang Ji sighed. "The tree is rooted in the soil and has grown for a long time. Its roots are already intertwined like a huge net. It's easier said than done to move it away."

Di Cang smiled disdainfully and stomped in the air. In an instant, the clouds exploded, and his body disappeared into the sky like a cannonball.

There were only mocking words lingering in the sky.

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