Qin Yun woke up after a short nap.
He sat up and looked at the effects of the howling mountain winds in a daze.
"I actually cried myself to sleep," muttered Qin Yun. "I do not have the luxury of time to drown my misery in alcohol. I just needed to momentarily get it off my chest. I have to continue thinking of a way to obtain the last gauntlet."
Qin Yun stood up and turned to return to the wooden hut he had built in the mountains. It was where he was residing during this period of time.
Even while he was traveling the Great Chang world or infiltrating the fiendcelestial-ruled Great Chu world, Qin Yun never stopped cultivating.
He practiced his sword, his calligraphy… As long as nothing held him up, he would persist every day.
