The war between the Mountain and Sea Realm and the Vast Expanse School went on for a thousand years, and yet neither side could wipe the other out. In the end, they called a truce. The number of cultivators who died was beyond calculation.
The only reason the truce had been called was because of the innumerable casualties. The enmity between the two forces was like an ocean of blood, a Gordian knot that could never be unravelled.
Time passed. Another five thousand years went by, and Meng Hao never came out of seclusion. He almost seemed to be sleeping, but the truth was that he was sitting there cross-legged, constantly analyzing the problem of the curse. At the same time, he was solidifying his place within the Ancestor Realm.
He gave up on any attempts to look for Allheaven outside the Vast Expanse. Years ago, he had been very anxious to fight, but now he realized that only one who needed to be anxious was Allheaven, not himself.
