Those mysterious little figures all bore solemn expressions as they danced upon the full black wheat, following a special rhythm, as if performing a kind of ritual.
Qin Ming halted from afar, held his breath, suppressed the fluctuations of his consciousness, harmonized with the Light and Dust, and completely blended into the pitch-dark night, concealing himself entirely.
The sight before him was somewhat beyond his understanding; creatures of the Fifth Realm could grow from the soil? He was rather startled; among those little figures, each only three inches tall, there were indeed genuine Grandmasters.
Is this a "Divine Field"? Qin Ming found it implausible, and observed carefully.
Yet as for the quality of the soil here, he saw nothing unusual; it was quite ordinary.
On the pitch-black, desolate, hardened black land where not a blade of grass had grown, vast swathes of black wheat were growing well, with wheat ears bent down heavily.
