Wang Chen ignored the glowing notification hovering before him, his gaze still sweeping the smoke-filled streets for any sign of life—or more demons. Yet the village lay silent now. No movement, no flicker of corrupted aura. It seemed only those six had been here, the same six whose bodies now lay scattered across the dirt road.
The smell of smoke and blood hung thick in the air. Charred rooftops still smoldered, the faint hiss of dying embers blending with the whispering wind.
Wang Chen exhaled through his nose. The sound was almost a sigh.
Turning away, his eyes fell upon Old Man Fang's lifeless form. The sight drew another weary breath from him.
.
.
"This should be enough, right…?" he murmured, staring at the six-foot pit he had dug with trembling hands.
