Li Hongtian

Just now, a female sword immortal flew past you on her sword, and you looked up. You caught a glimpse of the female sword immortal from a hundred years ago who slew a demon dragon in the Boundless Eastern Sea. She was at the pinnacle of her power in the mortal realm, and you felt something in your heart, condensing the essence of time into the technique of "Dragon Slayer."
Just now, an old beggar passed by you, and you glanced at him. You caught a glimpse of the old beggar from three hundred years ago who knocked on the tightly closed gates of heaven with his dog-beating stick, laughing at the immortals in the sky. You condensed the essence of time into the technique of "God Beater."
Just now, a scholar asked you for a sip of wine, and you squinted at him. You observed the scholar from five hundred years ago who studied the sword by lamplight at night, dressed in white. On the battlefield at the border, he decapitated countless members of the enemy race, his aura engulfing the vast land like a ferocious beast. You condensed the essence of time into the technique of "Enduring Spirit."
......
An Le traveled through time to this chaotic world, where life was fragile and worthless.
Fortunately, An Le could see the past experiences of others, whether glorious, sorrowful, or helpless, and then condense them into the essence of time to make himself stronger.
As a young practitioner, he cultivated his spirit and accumulated the essence of time.
With a calm and peaceful heart, he quietly knocked on the door of cultivation, peacefully becoming a sage.

Becoming a Sage Starts From Condensing the Essence of Time

The torrential rain outside the numbered room was like a sword waterfall that kept echoing with the Sword Furnace between An Le's eyebrows. It kept growing and clanging, almost gushing out.

The Ink Pool Sword at his waist trembled non-stop and suddenly floated up. The sword light in the numbered room was long. It was the Ink Pool Sword.

The ink qi continuously fused into the Ink Pool Sword, causing its grade to constantly increase, vaguely breaking through to the fifth-grade!

In the Literary Department, there was a path in the forest that led straight to the thatched cottage.

Under the thatched hut, a carbon stove was boiling water, and steam rose.

The Third Headmaster sat upright under the roof. The wrinkles on his aged face were piled up. Looking at the increasingly majestic rain, every drop of rain seemed to contain a hint of killing intent.

The Monument Moves as the Answer Is Written, Sword Qi Fills the Universe (3)