Xiao Ming's gaze remained fixed on the flickering portal before him, its edges shimmering with an otherworldly glow.
The spatial tear was no ordinary phenomenon—it pulsed with a strange, almost sentient energy, as though it were alive and watching. Xiao Ming couldn't shake the feeling that it held a deeper significance.
Was it an exit from this chaotic realm, or perhaps a new entrance into the turmoil that had engulfed the Island of Blood Ants?
The answer eluded him, but the weight of the moment pressed heavily on his shoulders.
The secret realm was a place of endless mysteries, each more enigmatic than the last. It was a land where fate and luck intertwined, where the line between opportunity and peril was razor-thin.
Xiao Ming knew that the others—those who sought the same treasures and power—would not stop for him or Xue Mao. Their prolonged absence had likely already set events into motion, and the consequences of their delay were impossible to predict.