Grey heaved a silent sigh.
Forcefully strengthening his body was not something that could be done overnight. It would require time, discipline, and an immense amount of effort. But if he succeeded… if he could truly temper his flesh to its limits, then in terms of raw speed alone, he would far surpass ordinary cultivators within the same realm.
That advantage alone could mean the difference between life and death.
Just as he was contemplating how to further increase his speed, the red fog blanketing the sky suddenly churned violently. It twisted and coiled like a living thing disturbed from slumber.
Grey's eyes narrowed.
The fog thickened… condensed… and then, faint silhouettes began to take shape within it.
Moments later, figures emerged.
Their eyes glowed with a sinister red light, and a foul stench of blood and decay rolled off them in suffocating waves. Their bodies seemed half-formed, unstable—like coagulated mist given shape through hatred alone.
