The Demon Realm was vast.
The game had never specified its size, but the narration once said, "If the Demon Realm were an ocean, the human world would be no more than an island in it."
Had that setting been plagiarized from a certain manga artist who was too obsessed with mahjong to update his work? No one knew.
But by the time the game came out, that artist was long dead—and the bastard had really delayed his work until he died. In the end, he had wrapped up his most famous series with a huge blank space and a few lines of text.
"I leave this vast world to you. Adorn it to your hearts' content with your own imagination."
...It sounded lovely, but didn't it just mean, "Write the rest of the story yourselves. I'm done with it"?
Pan Long followed the direction indicated by the divine spear Meteor for four or five days straight, yet the scenery around him barely changed.
Gray-yellow dust, a gray-yellow sky, ceaseless gales, parched earth, and cliffs bristling with jagged rocks... There was no sign of water in this world, much less any ordinary plants or animals.
He had seen plenty of Demons, though.
Most were vicious. The moment they sensed his presence, they rushed to attack. But most were not fast enough—Pan Long was hurrying onward, covering at least a dozen yards with every step. He ran across the ground faster than many flying Demons could flap their wings through the air.
Only the rare Demon that was exceptionally fast, had an enormous sensory range, or was extraordinarily lucky managed to get in front of him and attempt an attack.
...In truth, their luck was not very good at all.
After all, being punched into pieces, punched clean through, or blasted