Time slowly passed. Soon, another month had gone by. Compared to the Southern Domain, the Black Lands wasn’t very large. As he traveled, though, Meng Hao found that there weren’t very many cities, which made everything seem much further spread out.
Nearly everything was empty and desolate. The soil was pitch black, permeated with oppressive, deathly stillness. Even fewer places were filled with spiritual energy. Thankfully, Meng Hao currently didn’t have any strong requirement for spiritual energy. One day as he sat cross-legged on the vines, he suddenly opened his eyes to look off into the distance.
With his Spiritual Sense, he could see a short mountain about forty kilometers away, as well as a simple Immortal’s cave. The Immortal’s cave wasn’t located within the mountain, but rather, underneath it, almost like a burrow. Next to the mountain was a spring, the waters of which had pooled together to form a cistern.
The waters of the cistern were muddy and foul, and the whole area was littered with animal droppings and weeds. The place looked abandoned. If Meng Hao weren’t specifically looking for a place to rest and restore his health, he would most likely have overlooked a location like this.
“Actually, it’s not that bad,” he thought. He transmitted his will to the vines, and they moved off in the direction of the short mountain.
Soon thereafter, he arrived in the area. He approached on foot, allowing the vines to burrow down into the soil and conceal themselves.
Meng Hao walked through the weeds, passing the cistern. As he did, he noticed a small, black creature drinking from its waters. It looked up at him, emanating a cruel and vicious air.
Meng Hao ignored it, flying up in the air to inspect the mountain. Afterward, he flew toward a wide fissure on the surface of the mountain, a look of satisfaction on his face.
The jagged fissure led downward, and it took only a moment for the main door of the Immortal’s cave to appear in front of him. Meng Hao waved his hand, causing the door to tremble, then slowly open.
The Immortal’s cave wasn’t large; almost everything inside was covered in dust. Apparently it hadn’t been occupied for some time, although some aura of the fifth or sixth level of Qi Condensation still lingered inside. It appeared that the original owner of the cave didn’t have a very high Cultivation base.
After looking around for a moment, Meng Hao flicked his sleeve, causing a wind to spring up that instantly cleared away the dust and the damp.
Next, he sat down cross-legged and took a long, deep breath. A thoughtful look filled his eyes, after which his hand flashed in an incantation gesture and he waved his finger toward the main door. It slowly closed, after which magical symbols appeared on it, sealing it.
“My injuries are currently about fifty percent healed. I really was seriously hurt this time….” He produced some medicinal pills, consumed them, and then closed his eyes to meditate. Slowly but surely, his injuries began to recover.
As a Grandmaster of the Dao of alchemy, he was naturally able to concoct the optimal pills for treatment of his own injuries.
Time passed slowly and peacefully. It was quiet inside the Immortal’s cave, and dark as well. He sat alone for some time. When he finally awoke from his trance, he opened his eyes and looked out at the darkness. For some reason, the events from his time in the Violet Fate Sect appeared in his mind.
“The Ji Clan….” A bright glow appeared in his eyes, which he closed once again.
Three months slowly went by, although Meng Hao wasn’t very aware of the passage of time. His wounds were mostly recovered now, at least eighty percent so. According to his calculations, within a few months, he would be completely recovered, and back at the peak state he used to be in. In fact, he might even be able to make a bit of progress.
The absolute strangest thing to him was that in the past three months there hadn’t been the slightest bit of pursuit on the part of the Ji Clan. Meng Hao couldn’t help but draw some of his own conclusions about this.