"The spiritual energy at the boundary of the two continents is so thin, one can only imagine how thin it must be within the continent itself."
Zhao Feng gazed into the distance, his eyes piercing through layers of void, his brows slightly furrowed, contemplating silently.
"It's no wonder it's called the Exiled Land."
"Indeed, it banishes everything."
Zhao Feng's voice was low and carried a touch of melancholy, echoing in the desolate emptiness of this world.
But no one could hear his voice, for in the thousands of miles to the north of Nan Zhanbu Continent, there was no living being, due to the sparse spiritual energy, unsuitable for cultivators to survive.
"After the Witch-Demon War, Hong Jun severed the possibility of the two clans becoming powerful again."
"Killing two birds with one stone, truly Hong Jun."
"No wonder he could manipulate the Primordial for so many years, if not for Taiqing, he might have succeeded long ago."
