"An hour…"
Jun Wuxin's voice turned indifferently cold as he casually turned his face away, his tone measured and distant.
At that moment, Xiao Ming felt his cheeks heat with a quick blush, startled by the unexpected feedback from his revered instructor.
To most, the act of cultivation and meditation was a difficult, even arduous step.
But for Xiao Ming, every day without the nourishment of cultivation felt as if he were starved of food and parched with thirst.
This was not merely a matter of habit—it was an intrinsic peculiarity of his body, a unique trait bestowed by his Mystic Paths Physique.
Such a body was naturally attuned to the rhythms of nature, perceiving its subtle changes and internalizing them like the digestion of fine nourishment.
Only then could one say that the spirit and body had been fully fed.
Xiao Ming had often wondered at the strange contrast between his own seemingly endless reserves and the rapid deterioration experienced by his peers.
