With the last enemy fallen, the camp settled into an uneasy stillness. Disciples of various sects sank to the ground, pulling out recovery pills, tending to wounds, and steadying their breathing. Bottles clinked faintly, soft glows of medicinal auras rising here and there as the cultivators hastened their recovery.
Tian Lei alone stood apart. His chest rose and fell steadily, no pill bottle in sight, no flask of medicine at his side. His robes were torn in several places, faint cuts marking his skin, yet none severe enough to force him down. He wiped his blade clean on a fallen cloak, his expression calm, unreadable.
hmm, even with my just 1/5th of the strength I killed many peak mortal ranks easily… he thought. Merely dipping into the shallow end of my Heaven-rank arts, nothing more. I didn't even need to touch the techniques that are my main battle techniques.
