Zhao Cheng's return likewise caused no ripples.
Other than the people he wished to see, no one else noticed his existence at all.
As time passed, he did nothing each day but sleep, stare blankly into space, or sit in the courtyard to enjoy the cool air. He took part in no entertainment whatsoever and did not even step out the front gate. He seemed to have completely fallen into decadence.
If it were someone else who had entered such a state, those around them would surely have assumed they had suffered some terrible blow.
But when it came to Zhao Cheng, everyone believed this, too, was a form of cultivation.
Zhao Xiaoxiang in particular even copied Zhao Cheng's movements and sat staring blankly for half a day. After reaping half a day's worth of boredom, she went right back to losing herself in games.
The truth was that Zhao Cheng was making preparations—preparations to confront the mastermind behind the scenes.
Over these past few days, incidents of monsters killing people had been increasing across the globe. Though the news was being suppressed, rumors still spread in the shadows.
Through special rituals, one could become a god's servant and gain power and longevity. As for the price, it was merely becoming bloodthirsty.
The power was real, while the longevity was false. Of course, it was not entirely false either. Theoretically, as long as one ate enough people, one could live to a thousand years old.
In this world, the cellular vitality of the strong could theoretically remain undying for a millennium. What limited them was not their bodies, but their spirits, worn away by time until they fell into extinction.
Yet the seed of the evil god's higher-dimensional power could plunder the spirits of others to nourish itself.
And whether