One day, he suddenly experienced an emptiness in which he found that neither life nor death were important. As he performed an incantation with his right hand, whiteness became visible.
Suddenly, an ancient voice filled his mind: “When you reach the end of your path, then you will have lost yourself.”
Next, blackness appeared in Meng Hao’s palm.
The ancient voice once again echoed in his mind. “When you reach the end of your path, then all you will have left is yourself.” Meng Hao had the faint sensation that he was in the process of grasping enlightenment.
It was an enlightenment of an unimaginably vast and mysterious great Dao.
“White and black are like the daytime and nighttime…. 1” he muttered. He looked at his right hand and then slowly lifted it up toward the sky. He could sense that if he had a cultivation base, then considering his enlightenment of this Dao, he could turn the sky as dark as night or as bright as day. The interlocking of black and white could unleash a supreme power.
“Too bad I don’t have a cultivation base,” he thought, shaking his head. “Even if I completely understood this Dao, I still couldn’t use it.” He was just about to stand up when suddenly, the ship… stopped moving.
Meng Hao looked up, his eyes wide.