A week passed.
Lith's core was safe with little to no harm coming from the internal tribulation. Whatever damage there was, it was from the external one.
Corpses of dead creatures lay in his core and the mist that was up in the sky, apparently that was an evolving-type of poison.
An evolving-type was something whose grade would get higher due to various types of reasons.
In this poison mist's case, the more it absorbed spiritual power, killing intent, and energies of the people below it, the higher would its grade become.
If the people that had arrived wouldn't be able to kill Lith, then this mist sure was going to.
Lith wouldn't even realize what it was and how it worked even after his death.
By calling his mother, he had done the best possible job and saved himself from being permanently killed.
