Inside the tree hollow, time seemed to have lost its meaning. There was only the sound of Fang Hao's faint yet steady breathing, and the wisp of Chaos Qi within his body flowing like a murmuring stream, slowly and firmly repairing and strengthening him.
Days rose and moons fell, and who knew how many seasons had passed. The light outside the tree hollow, filtered through the gaps, was sometimes bright and sometimes dim, accompanied by wind, rain, thunder, and lightning, as well as the roars of Demon Beasts in the distance and the occasional short, intense fluctuations of battle belonging to human Cultivators.
Fang Hao was like a dormant boulder, maintaining minimal vigilance against the outside world. The vast majority of his attention was submerged within his body, guiding that wisp of Chaos Qi, born from the edge of death and the Chaos Origin, to repair his riddled Physical Body and Divine Soul bit by bit.
