Zhang Ling immersed his mind and carefully reviewed the third cultivation method. He felt that this method was even more miraculous. After successfully cultivating the third layer, his divine sense would be at least 30% stronger than that of other cultivators of the same rank.
It might not sound like much, but this was a soul refining technique. Having 30% stronger divine sense than other cultivators of the same rank had numerous benefits.
Not only would he be more proficient in controlling magical treasures and artifacts, but he would also be more sensitive to danger.
However, the initial cultivation requirement for this third method required the cultivator's divine sense to cover at least a thirty-mile radius. Cultivators with this level of divine sense strength were generally in the late stage of the Golden Core realm or higher.
He had only recently broken through to the late stage of the Golden Core realm. He had previously cultivated a fragmented soul refining technique and had been wearing soul-nurturing wood for many years, nourishing his soul. His divine sense was much stronger than that of other cultivators of the same rank.
If he were to fully release his divine sense, it could cover a radius of thirty-five or six miles. This perfectly met the requirements for cultivating this third part of the Nine Yuan Soul Refining Art.
Soul refining techniques were demanding to cultivate. The third part of the method contained many techniques for training divine sense. If one's divine sense wasn't strong enough, forcibly cultivating it would not end well.
At best, one would experience frequent headaches and mental fatigue. At worst, one's soul would be in danger of being torn apart, and careless cultivation could even turn one into an idiot.
The dangers were more perilous than cultivating any other technique.
After all, a cultivator's soul was the most fragile, and training it was not easy.
Afterward, Zhang Ling meditated for a while to recover his spirit. He then looked at the ancient painting again, and the picture had changed again. This made him happy, as it seemed the ancient painting had many mysteries worth exploring.
But after taking a glance at the new picture, his expression changed slightly.
The fourth picture showed a mountain village scene. The village was small, with only a few dozen households nestled at the foot of a small mountain. It looked like an ordinary mountain village scene.
Zhang Ling frowned because he was very familiar with this village. It was actually Qingtian Village, where he had lived as a child.
This memory had been buried in his mind and had not been recalled for a long time.
After a moment of silence, he put away his thoughts and chuckled. "Hmph, I want to see what other tricks this ancient painting has."
Zhang Ling muttered to himself and directly released a portion of his divine sense, once again condensing it into a phantom figure and entering the painting.
The surrounding scene instantly transformed into the appearance of Qingtian Village. He was standing on the only dirt road in the village, with the low houses of several villagers on both sides of the road. He heard shouts coming from one of the houses, as if someone was arguing.
Zhang Ling glanced over and saw a small courtyard through the open door, with several figures standing inside. A hunched old man in coarse clothing was scolding a dark-faced man.
Seeing these two people, distant memories surfaced in his mind. If he remembered correctly, the old man was the village chief of Qingtian Village, and the dark-faced man was the village chief's son, Uncle Wang Feng. He was very familiar with this Uncle Fengzi.
"Little Ling'er, how about Grandpa makes you fish soup today?" Suddenly, a somewhat aged voice sounded from behind. Zhang Ling's body shook, and he quickly turned his head to look.
He saw an old man and a young child walking from a distance. The old man was wearing a faded short shirt and carrying a bamboo basket on his back, with a smile on his face as he spoke.
Next to the old man was a five or six-year-old child, who was also carrying a bamboo basket on his back and holding a small hoe in his hand, waving it randomly.
Hearing the old man's words, the child pouted and said in a childish voice, "Grandpa, can we eat big buns today?"
"Haha, if Ling'er wants to eat big buns, Grandpa will satisfy you. But have you remembered how to write the name I taught you today?" The old man touched the child's head and laughed.
"This... Ah, Grandpa is cheating. Ling'er is so young, but already knows so many characters."
"Grandpa doesn't care. Ling'er will only get big buns to eat today if he learns to write his name. If he can't write it, there won't be anything good to eat." The old man and the child, laughing and playing, walked towards a mud house not far away.
Zhang Ling stood quietly in place, watching them enter the house, his heart filled with complex emotions.
"Grandpa..."
This ancient painting was truly magical, able to conjure up scenes from his memories. Being in the painting, the appearance of Qingtian Village felt both familiar and strange to Zhang Ling. He slowly walked towards the home he remembered.
Standing at the door, watching the old man and the child arranging herbs in the courtyard, Zhang Ling's thoughts were somewhat complicated. He didn't go inside, but just stood outside the door, quietly watching everything.
In his memory, he and his grandfather lived peacefully in the mountain village, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. Although life was hard, it was also leisurely and carefree.
Until the day Tu Fei entered the village and massacred the entire village.
As Zhang Ling's thoughts changed, the surrounding scene also changed rapidly. Instantly, a cry of killing entered his ears. The scene before him suddenly transformed into the night the bandits entered the village.
With a thought, he transformed his divine sense into sword lights, instantly killing the bandits who had entered the village.
But after a moment, the cries of killing appeared again, and another group of bandits rushed into Qingtian Village, in an almost identical scene.
It seemed that nothing had changed.
This made his face become gloomy. It seemed that this ancient painting could sense his thoughts and conjure corresponding scenes.
Zhang Ling closed his eyes expressionlessly, calmed his mind, and when he opened his eyes again, the surrounding illusion twisted and disappeared completely.
