Three months later.
Xu Ping's figure silently appeared at the outskirts of the Valley of Ten Thousand Demons.
From the outside, the valley looked much the same as he remembered it.
Towering mountains, shrouded in demon qi, with giant vines entwining the peaks, and various exotic flowers and plants dotting the landscape, still presented a scene of vibrant life mixed with a wild aura.
However, upon closer inspection, a slight difference could be sensed.
The number of disciples and demon cultivators coming and going in the valley seemed less dense than before.
Moreover, most appeared hurried, with a lingering heaviness and gloom between their brows, as if the entire sect was enveloped in an invisible haze, as though they had just endured some major blow.
Xu Ping's brow furrowed slightly.
He still had a lingering affection for the Valley of Ten Thousand Demons.
Seeing this scene, he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern in his heart.
