During his days in Tute City, Ang was like a lurking ghost. He made no improper moves and was no different from the other demons.
He followed demon squads out to hunt magical beasts, sweated through training, and outwardly blended in with Tute City's demons.
At night, he lay on a crude stone bed, listening to the demons' low growls and snores while constantly plotting his revenge.
During this time, he only caught a distant glimpse of a Tier 3 Foul Spirit during one hunt.
That Foul Spirit had four arms and a single horn, with no unusual patterns on it. It was completely different from the half-demon-blooded demon that had ambushed him.
Ang secretly took note. Ordinary Tier 3 Foul Spirits had unremarkable horns, while half-demon-blooded demons bore strange dark patterns on theirs, giving off a cold, sinister aura. The difference was obvious at a glance.
Six days passed in the blink of an eye. It had already been two days since the one-week deadline he had promised Quintina.
Ang stood in a corner of Tute City, looking up at the sparse starlight in the night sky. Quintina, I hope you aren't worried.
His voice was nearly inaudible, carrying a trace of apology and longing.
The flames of revenge burned fiercely in his chest, but Tute City's tight security left him unable to find an opening.
Just when he thought his chances were slim, fate seemed to cast him a sliver of hope.
That day, he followed a demon squad out to hunt. As they passed through Tute City's towering gates, a burst of urgent roaring suddenly came from afar.
Ang looked up, and his heart clenched. A Dark Pegasus carrying a Tier 3 Foul Spirit was flying rapidly toward Tute City.
The Foul Spirit's aura pressed down like