Shi Pan held the clothes woven by his mother and slowly walked away.
In this area, only Qi Yuan was left alone.
"Continue to cultivate the Forging Technique."
Having nothing else to do anyway, Qi Yuan continued to cultivate the Forging Technique, or to compose the "Qiyuan Sutra."
Time ticked by, second by second.
Before he knew it, dusk fell.
The whole world fell silent.
As if even the sounds of insects had disappeared.
It felt as though he was in a desolate land.
Feeling the cool night wind, Qi Yuan yawned, "This sort of weather is perfect for sleeping."
The chilly breeze grew stronger, and a layer of fog rose up at that moment.
A bone-piercing cold swept over him.
Qi Yuan lay on the chilly lounging chair, his expression calm.
Just then, a trail of light flashed, "Fellow Daoist, hurry up, the Yin Soul Patrol Heaven is about to start. Make your way to the Wind Cave quickly."