The vast Mist Mountain Range is like an ancient giant beast, quietly lying on the ground.
Upon arriving at the Mist Mountain Range, Lin Feng sat down on the edge of the range, leaning against the mist.
He was only half a zhang away from the rolling mist behind him, meaning any sudden change would allow him to retreat into the mist immediately.
The rolling mist is his means of survival.
There are still five or six days until the agreed date with the Yellow Springs Demon Sect, so Lin Feng closed his eyes, both waiting and quietly tempering the Dark Power within himself.
Having just broken through his cultivation, his Dark Power surged, but his foundation was not solid; to continue breaking through, he would need at least a month of arduous cultivation.
Time slowly passed, and at some point, several martial artists flew in Lin Feng's direction, then stopped thousands of miles away.
