Ling Tianyu, hearing he could only rest for ten minutes, hurriedly seized the opportunity to rest, ignoring the wounds on his feet and lying down on the ground to sleep, obviously exhausted to the limit.
Aunt Xia, seeing this, didn't say anything. She simply smiled slightly, having never heard him utter a word of complaint, willingly enduring the pain. Such a young man was interesting to guide.
The sound of snoring rose, and Aunt Xia did not mind at all; on the contrary, she took off her own robe and covered him with it to prevent him from catching a chill.
Ten minutes were infinitely valuable to Ling Tianyu; he found every second exceedingly long.
Quickly, ten minutes passed, and the cruel cultivation training continued, the torment still persisted.
Ling Tianyu was now cultivating every second, with the Demon Race's Soul Gate also buying him time. His uncle and father worked together, exhausting all their cunning schemes.
It was a dangerous gamble.