Inside the cave mansion, Zhang Yan seated himself on a cushion, exhaling and inhaling spiritual breath through his mouth and nose. He held a sleeve bag shimmering with spirit light within the clear qi, manipulating it to expand and contract in rhythm with his breaths.
Yet every few moments, the sleeve bag would struggle and twist violently as if the true recognition within it still refused to submit completely.
Over the past few days, Zhang Yan had repeatedly conducted sacrificial refinement on the item, purging all traces of mixed energy. However, deep within the sleeve bag remained a cluster of essence qi, which had condensed from Xiao Han's heart blood and infused with some sort of secret technique. Even though Xiao Han had already perished and faded from the Dao, the true recognition of the sleeve bag stubbornly fortified itself in this spot, defiant and unyielding.
