That little boy who had once knelt before a grave and sobbed had grown up.
Everyone had their own distinguishing traits, most of them in appearance. Yet Zhuo Feng was the sort who was not handsome but still drew attention—cold and composed, with an expression that had not changed in years. Many cultivators felt that most Chunyang Palace cultivators were very aloof.
Zhuo Feng frowned.
"A Drought Demon? You've got some nerve showing yourself."
He waved for the five cultivators to leave at once, while sending word to the encampment outside the ancient battlefield to dispatch reinforcements. A Drought Demon was not easy to deal with...
When the Drought Demon ran rampant, it was as scorching as blazing fire.
A Demon was a drought ghost. A corpse altered by its surroundings became a zombie and fed on human blood; after many years and countless meals of human flesh, it became a Drought Demon. It brought drought disasters upon the world, reducing everything within a thousand li of its domain to scorched earth. It possessed boundless strength and a body like iron, dense Killing Intent, and intensely poisonous venom. It did not enter the Six Paths.
That temporary encampment had only two experts: Zhuo Feng and a monk, both Nascent Soul Realm cultivators. The monk had gone to aid another battlefield today and was absent from the camp. Of all times, a Drought Demon had appeared now. Zhuo Feng felt crushing pressure. His message back was also meant to have the camp swiftly contact powerful experts to come and slay the Demon.
The Drought Demon stared at Zhuo Feng, baring its fangs. It needed blood and flesh, especially the blood of powerful beings.
"If I eat you, I'll grow stronger."
Zhuo Feng ignored the threat. He took a Golden Talisman from