After Muyi heard this he felt a bit envious. He did not have the good fortune to enter a sect, but Lin Ming’s master had already left his sect. He said, “Your master’s cultivation must have been very high if he left his sect to go travelling. He had probably reached the limit of some high boundary. Perhaps he was above the xiantian stage?”
To Muyi, the xiantian stage was an immeasurably distant ideal. For martial artists that were not in a sect, let alone the xiantian stage, the stages above it must be even more unimaginable.
Hearing Muyi’s question, Lin Ming finally understood the intentions of this old man. His interest in this so called ‘master’ of his was very strong. His eyes were eager and full of earnest. He must have been looking for some answers for his own cultivation. It was very difficult to practice oneself, after all Muyi was at such an old age; he had probably reached his own limits.
Thinking of this, Lin Ming considered the memories of the elder’s soul fragment. These memories, although there were some memories of martial arts cultivation, they were not complete. But there was not much value, so it was easy to say a thing or two.