After bidding farewell to Wan Zhi Daoist, Wang Ping walked around the pavilion, followed a small path along a mountain stream, and returned to the wide, jade-paved road. He looked up, but there wasn't a single Six Heart Sect disciple in sight—not even Tong Jing, who had led the way just moments before, was anywhere to be seen.
Wang Ping exhaled, his breath forming a wisp of white mist in the cold winter air. He then looked up, gazing at the gentle winter sunlight as he recalled every word of his conversation with Wan Zhi Daoist.
"I thought this spot would be a tangible object, something like the True Yang Sect's Fire Spirits. I didn't expect it to be just a matter of permission from those above," Yu Lian said to Wang Ping from within his Spirit Sea. "How do they control these spots? Does it mean that even if someone successfully breaks through, they'll be eliminated without that permission?"
