Eighteen hours.
When Allen's consciousness surfaced from the depths of his Sea of Spirit, a dull ache throbbed at his temples.
It was a sign of Spiritual Power overload. The Echo Conch's amplification could increase Meditation efficiency, but it couldn't break the body's physical limits.
After eighteen hours of continuous cultivation, his Spiritual Power was on the verge of depletion.
He opened his eyes and took a sip of the Iced Dew juice handed to him by a Craftsman's Hand, his consciousness fully withdrawing from the state of Meditation.
The sand table automatically materialized in his field of vision.
The beast tide was another forty kilometers closer.
Allen's gaze didn't linger on the suffocating sea of red, but slowly moved to the northern and southern flanks of Zone 18.
Zone 17, Zone 19.
The beast tide from the west was pouring in like a cataclysmic flood—not in a straight line, but in a wide fan formation.
