"Given Lu Chong's abilities, he should have sent back some word long ago. At the very least, a signal talisman should have returned. Yet there has been no news at all."
After returning from the Ancient Demon Sect Ruins and advancing to the Ten Thousand Manifestations Realm, Lu Chong's accumulated foundations from the past had been continuously erupting.
Furthermore, countless opportunities in the great battles and his various clashes with the Demon Race had allowed him to quickly familiarize himself with the Ten Thousand Manifestations Realm. Though his strength could not be said to advance by a thousand miles a day, its improvement was plainly visible.
To a certain extent, Lu Chong's current strength was even greater than that of some elders who had entered the Ten Thousand Manifestations Realm long ago.
Thus, the expressions of the other elder-level figures in the tent were as dark as water.
Over the past few days, the poisonous miasma in the Chaotic Swamp had suddenly intensified. The elite scout squads sent deep inside had been wiped out to the last man, their deaths bizarre.
The Demon Race's resistance at Thousand Streams Ravine had been clever to an excessive degree, as though they had learned the Human Race's offensive routes in advance. They could always precisely intercept the weak points of the Human Race's attacks.
The strange force in the core region of the Desolate Silent Sand Sea that wore away at spirit essence and suppressed cultivation arts was growing ever stronger.
Those three places were like three tough barbs, wedged firmly into the joints of the Human Race's advance. Not only did they tie down a great number of elites, they were also like three wounds that bled without end.
"A Demon Race trap."
The Sect Master's voice was calm, yet a vast,