Black mountains, standing side by side, all barren, where are the petals of strange flowers falling or the leaves of divine trees drifting? There's not a single blade of grass here, only the terrifying fierce gusts of wind.
The black airflow is like a blade, over the years, it has shaved off a portion of the peaks here. If it weren't for the immortal Tao patterns inside the mountain bodies, this place would have long been swept flat.
Qin Ming stood like a rock at the edge of the black storm, watching the roaring wind. He opened the Newborn's Eye, and his spiritual field resonated with it, matching the wind's fluctuations.
Number Four wasn't entirely wrong; within the wind, fragments of the bronze book were indeed drifting, but they were not tangible, rather a manifestation of the scripture meaning's Tao rhythm.
Qin Ming is now operating the "Wind Manipulation Scripture" and merging with the black fierce gusts of wind, capturing just this kind of scripture meaning.
