"No one can be counted on; in this world, depending on the heavens, the earth, or others is not as reliable as depending on oneself!" Chen Li thought to himself.
It was evening when he left Zhang Yan's home.
The setting sun dyed the sky a brilliant crimson, casting the shantytown in a blood-red hue.
A few loose cultivators with fierce expressions whispered among themselves by the roadside, occasionally glancing at passersby. Upon seeing Chen Li, they quickly looked away.
Having killed both people and demon beasts,
coupled with his sturdy physique that seemed built for battle and his agile movements,
a not-to-be-messed-with aura naturally emanated from him.
With the passing of winter, the shantytown had become even more dilapidated. Underfoot, the muddy ground was mixed with all sorts of trash: rags, broken ceramics, wood, and occasionally, one could even see scattered bones and the decomposing carcasses of small animals.
