At the peak of the mountain guarded by the Chijin Battlegroup, the fierce wind swept against Li Qi's combat suit. He sat cross-legged on a dark boulder, his spiritual sense spreading like a dense web, making any movement within tens of kilometers utterly transparent.
"The demons have indeed become too few lately." Li Qi tapped his knee lightly with his fingertips, sensing only dozens of low-tier demons wandering in the distance, their weak auras not even worth the battlegroup's effort to eliminate.
Even so, the vigilance in his eyes did not wane, and the short blade in his hand remained half-sheathed at all times — the longer one stays in the Demon Suppression Abyss, the more they understand that "lowering one's guard" equates to courting death.
Just then, an unexpected surge of warmth rose from his dantian, rushing to his limbs.
Li Qi's face changed dramatically, his eyes snapping open, a wave of incredulous ecstasy swirling in his pupils.
