Crisis

We are often blissfully ignorant of the fate that lies in wait for us. A similar predicament was unfolding for Xiao Ming.

Oblivious to the intricate scheme that Bai Yingyu had orchestrated in his absence, he was preoccupied with the tragic circumstances that currently engulfed him.

The Xiantian Demons, once as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns, had now proliferated to a staggering degree, swarming the vast expanse of the Demon Raiding Mountain like grains of sand on a seashore.

Since his emergence from the mysterious path, Xiao Ming had been relentlessly traversing the treacherous terrain.

At this moment, Xiao Ming found himself in an isolated cave, where he was fervently recovering his depleted energy.

Surrounding him were dozens of beast cores, each pulsating with potent Spiritual Qi.

His nine mysterious sword spirits were diligently at work, skillfully resolving the conflicting demonic energy within the cores.