At that moment, warships from the various races and other magical treasures were still bursting through the dense fog from deep within the forest. The number of cultivators from the various races arriving at the market was still growing.
"The depths of that dense fog are actually a spatial rift. It seems to connect the human, ghost, demon, and devil races. They say it has existed since ancient times. But crossing that rift is no easy feat. Even Body Integration Cultivators who enter it face near-certain death. Only the large sects with ancient lineages can safely come and go, using magical treasures left behind by their powerful predecessors and the spatial coordinates they set within the rift. As for lone wanderers, nine times out of ten, the spatial storms inside will tear them to pieces."
As Ban Qianzhi led Lu Xiaotian onward, he paid no heed to the awe and envy in the eyes of the low-ranking cultivators from the various races along the way.
"Still, the rift doesn't open on any set schedule. Sometimes it opens once every few hundred years; other times, it stays closed for over a thousand."
Lu Xiaotian looked around. The market's current state bore a striking resemblance to the chaotic demon realm he had once seen: all races living together, a real hotchpotch. The difference was that the factions here were more clearly divided.
Under Ban Qianzhi's guidance, Lu Xiaotian arrived at a place steeped in a fierce, baleful aura. His eyes narrowed. The aura felt unnervingly familiar—it was identical to that of the Netherdark Demon Mound.
Awoo! Roars of beasts and human howls rang out from within. Yet the howls sounded as if they came from beings who had not yet developed their intelligence.
As they drew closer, Lu Xiaotian's pupils contracted. A