In the room.
A man exuding a faint air of indifference sat at the center, his head lowered, black hair a silent and mysterious as the night.
At his feet lay a bizarre silhouette.
The Inferior Demon curled up on the ground, its head tight against the man's ankle, nudging it shyly, like it wants to show goodwill but fears reprimand.
The man reached out, gently caressing the Inferior Demon's head back and forth. Its eyes slightly dilated, it slightly lifted its chin and lazily closed its eyes, seemingly satisfied.
A lazy demeanor, akin to basking in sunlight.
Originally, it was a common gesture.
Yet some present seem uneasy, especially Zhang Jianxiong whose eyes widened, as though he couldn't believe what he was witnessing.
When Wei Xun and the others approached their stronghold, some provocateurs with guns spoke disrespectfully; by the time Zhang Jianxiong rushed over, those few were already gone.
The Inferior Demon!
