On campus, a small brick and stone building, the second-floor bedroom.
Tang Qi is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, his clothes not yet changed.
At this moment, he has already entered into meditation.
The familiar ruins of darkness, a golden sun slowly taking shape, ancient patterns bit by bit sketched out; the moment it forms, streams composed of golden light points flow from all directions, some thick, some as thin as smoke.
These are Tang Qi's harvest tonight, contributed by a group of Ghouls, Evil Spirits, and three large Abnormalities.
As they quickly become a part of Tang Qi's spiritual power, the feeling of swelling and annoyance rapidly disappears, replaced by a strong, warm sensation that makes Tang Qi feel as though he now needs neither Fog Body, nor Blood Python No.1, nor even Fighting Skill; a single punch could kill those previously encountered monsters.
This, of course, is an illusion, a pleasant illusion.