Night was black as ink. Time crept by amid the boundless darkness and the crackle of flames, every minute and every second feeling like torment.
The martial artists in the camp all looked exhausted, their eyes bloodshot. A whole night of high alert had already worn them out in body and mind, but the roars of the black shadows from the surrounding darkness had never stopped. Instead, they grew more violent, more frantic, as if filled with endless anger and resentment, their eyes fixed on all the martial artists as they stirred restlessly, ready to strike.
Dawn was coming soon.
That night, though the black shadows had launched sneak attacks again and again and caused plenty of panic, fewer than ten martial artists had actually been killed by them in total.
For the countless black shadows, such results were far from enough. They seemed possessed by some obsession, wanting to wipe out every martial artist before them who could still move before daybreak.
But the wall of flames burned fiercely, the blaze vast and raging. Layer upon layer of stacked wood burned, the flames leaping several meters high and driving back the surrounding darkness by several zhang, forming an unbreakable fire wall barrier. The black shadows could not get close at all. They could only roar madly in the dark and dart back and forth, never finding an opening, frantic as ants on a hot pan.
Chen Mo stood beside the flames, his gaze piercing the darkness, his expression calm as he watched the movements of the black shadows in the distance.
By now, the number of black shadows had already increased to nearly a hundred. They gathered densely in the darkness, shuttling back and forth like ghosts, their eyes glowing with eerie green light as they stared fixedly at