When Duan Rong returned to his cave, the sky was already completely dark.
In the pitch-black sky, the deep mist in the valley was still vaguely visible, rolling slowly...
Duan Rong stood on the edge of the cliff at the cave entrance, watching the mist roll over the vast mountains, his gaze flickering.
Everything around him seemed to be shrouded in fog as well.
For Duan Rong, the rolling mist in the valley was like a symbol, suggesting that in the unseen places, some kind of danger might be lurking...
This had always been a vague feeling in his heart.
Whether it was Shang Xiangyu or Pan Yong, there was something inexplicably bizarre about them.
Duan Rong sighed; all he could do now was seize the time to cultivate and quickly enhance his own strength.
The stronger his strength, the better his chances of surviving if a crisis really came.
