Luo Qingyao stood beneath the parasol tree, eyes closed.
She remained motionless, her clothes and long hair draping over her shoulders swayed gently with the night wind.
Time, to her, seemed to slow down infinitely. Her senses magnified, capturing the dust in the wind, the water in the ditches, the weeds between the wall cracks... every slight movement became exceptionally clear.
The leaves and branches of the parasol tree swayed. It seemed as if it was merely the night wind blowing, or perhaps the tree itself was shaking on its own accord.
Luo Qingyao suddenly opened her eyes, a cold glint flashed briefly.
The aura within her surged rapidly, breaking through Foundation Establishment in an instant, forming a Golden Core... a pure, flawless Golden Core without any lines on it.
Even the worst Golden Core Cultivator would have at least one alchemical pattern. Someone as talented as Fu Manman had as many as nine lines.
But she... had none at all.
