The longer one lived, the higher one stood, the more inevitable it became that one would unlock the achievement of "broad knowledge and experience."
Blood Demon had not actually witnessed a similar scene firsthand. Yet this sensation—of even his boiling blood about to freeze, of every hair on his body screaming warnings that terrifying danger was about to descend—he had personally experienced or heard of only three to five times in his life.
Setting aside those exaggerated memories from his young and ignorant days, the remaining answer was already obvious.
Blood Demon took a shallow breath. The air from the viscous, collapsing Space Fault was unexpectedly stimulating, adding fuel to his boiling, burning blood.
At that moment, he decisively abandoned his previous grinning, pestering manner. His arm, elongated and robust from his demonic transformation, shot forward and seized the collar of Yabolun, who had just returned to human form.
The latter did not resist. His gaze merely passed straight over Blood Demon's shoulder, most likely using his recently recovered sight and hearing to lock onto Ronan.
Blood Demon was deeply dissatisfied with Yabolun's attitude. His savage maw, formed by the transformation, nearly pressed against the man's face. "What exactly are you trying to do? Hey, I'm talking to you—talking to you while grabbing you by the collar!
"Look at those clothes! Old Mitch worked his ass off to create that opportunity for you, poured out all that goodwill for you. Don't just casually feed it all to the dogs!"
Yabolun gave no response. His eyes remained fixed on Ronan, on that young man whose chin had only just begun to sprout stubble.
Ronan seemed to have sensed the extraordinary power pressing down from the horizon as well. His gaze pierced through the shattered Space Fault toward the distance—though at this