They had dealt with those three peak Demon Gods.
Qiutian immediately returned to the Fire Origin Spirit Race's front-line camp.
Night blanketed the endless rows of tents. Armored guards gripped their long spears as they patrolled, their footsteps echoing through the silence.
The camp was filled with formations designed to detect the aura of the Abyss Ruins, but against a traitor to the Realm Sea like Qiutian, they were useless.
Qiutian evaded everyone's notice. Like a ghost, he appeared soundlessly outside Shen Fan's tent.
He didn't go in.
He simply stood in the shadow of the tent flap, quietly steadying his breathing.
The wounds on his body still throbbed faintly, injuries he'd sustained moments ago while slaughtering several of Flame Venerable's personal guards.
But he couldn't spare a thought for them now.
Whenever he thought of Shen Fan's calm, unreadable gaze, he felt an inexplicable irritation.
No matter how meticulous a plan was, one uncontrollable variable could bring the whole thing crashing down.
Shen Fan was that variable.
By various means, Qiutian had learned some basic information about Shen Fan and confirmed that he really was a seventh-grade peak True Ancestor, someone Qiutian couldn't deal with.
But he didn't need to.
Thinking of the three peak Demon Gods still lying in wait outside, Qiutian's aura finally settled.
The gloom and murderous intent vanished from his face, replaced by an expression of humility and obedience.
He lifted the tent flap and went inside.
A single lamp flickered in the tent.
Shen Fan sat cross-legged on a soft animal-hide cushion, apparently cultivating.
At the sound, he opened his eyes.
"It's you!"
Shen Fan's tone was flat, betraying no emotion.
Qiutian bowed, making himself as deferential as possible.
"Lord Shen Fan."
"Didn't you go back with Flame Venerable? Why are you back? Is