At dusk, the setting sun was as red as blood, piercing through layers of fog and poisonous miasma, casting its light at the entrance of the ancient Yellow Skin Cave.
In the desolate central square, only a few bone thrones remained.
The yellow-skinned creatures hiding in the grass had long since scattered, and this ancient demon cave returned to its cold clarity, just like the vast Hundred Thousand Mountains...
To cultivate means eternal loneliness.
Huang Jiu bid farewell to Zhang Fan and the others, long past the range of the Yellow Skin Cave.
"In just one night, you've improved quite a bit."
Walking through the empty mountains, Zhang Fan glanced sideways. He could sense that Huang Jiu's Primordial Spirit had grown much stronger, like a seedling nourished with fertilizer, absorbing and growing, far from reaching its limit.
"That's all thanks to you," Huang Jiu said in a deep voice.
