Having received a supplement of external Black Mist essence, the wisp of half-dead Black Mist remaining in Black Scale finally recovered a little vitality. As it slowly devoured and fused with it, the process moved so slowly that Soul Lock could not help pulling out his Magic Phone and starting to read a novel.
Several hours later, the devouring process finally ended. The wisp of Black Mist that had originally been half-dead seemed much livelier, and Black Scale's semi-dormant consciousness awakened along with it. Before this, he had possessed only instinct-like reactions and had been utterly unable to sense the outside world.
The instant his consciousness returned, Black Scale became vigilant.
He clearly remembered what he had encountered. The scene had been deeply etched into his consciousness: towering white sword light, and before it, the sea of Black Mist had been like snow beneath a blazing sun, sliced into scattered fragments in an instant. The strength he had been so proud of had been completely useless, and then he had lost consciousness entirely.
That person had been far more terrifying than the Demon Emperor.
At the very least, Black Scale remembered lasting several moves against the Demon Emperor. Yet before that person, who had also struck casually, he had felt a dispiriting sense that he simply could not contend with her. Black Scale could not imagine what realm she had reached. Even That Lord was likely inferior.
A firefly compared to a bright moon—Black Scale's inflated heart was instantly beaten back to reality.
Even now, fear lingered in his heart. In that moment, he had truly sensed the breath of death. Black Scale was not actually afraid of death; if he died, he died—what was the big deal? What he feared was that feeling of being unable to control his