Camp No. 6.
Night fell. The full moon hung like a disk, its frosty light spilling coldly over the rows of tents and casting a thin silver sheen.
A dark figure strode unhurriedly into the area covered by the camp's formation. He wore black, his cheeks sunken and gaunt. His face was expressionless, yet his naturally shadowy features made anyone who looked at him feel uneasy.
"Zhang Huayuan"—or rather, Jiang Tian.
The instant he stepped within range of the detection formation, he clearly felt its fluctuation settle over him. It paused for the briefest moment, then moved away as if nothing had happened.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he sauntered boldly into the depths of the camp.
The cooldown on All-Slashing had ended. This time, he could afford to take the brute-force approach.
Of course, brute force didn't mean charging in blindly.
Jiang Tian had already worked out a plan. First, he'd head to the central tent and break the formation.
Once the formation shattered, the demonic cultivators huddled in their tents would scatter like ants from a kicked nest to see what had happened.
Then, it would be a matter of one sword.
As he thought it over, he had already reached the central tent. He lifted the flap and stepped inside.
Three gazes shot toward him at once.
Jiang Tian quickly glanced above their heads. Each of them had two or more red entries, their crimson light flickering faintly.
"Extract."
Jiang Tian gave the silent command in his mind.
At his words, the entries on the three panels turned into three streaks of light visible only to him and silently flew into his body.
"Zhang Huayuan?" One of them, maintaining the formation, asked with a trace of puzzlement. "You should be staying at Camp No. 9.