The years flew by like a shuttle, and in the blink of an eye, two hurried years had passed.
This year, Ning Daoran was one hundred and twenty years old.
Qiongbi Peak, Spiritual Field Courtyard No. 77, Insect Room.
Accompanied by the sound of munching on spiritual grass, a swarm of densely packed Fire Devouring Ants slowly vibrated their wings, with their bodies flickering like fireflies.
"Not bad," Ning Daoran said, looking at a pile of severed ant legs on the ground, and nodded in satisfaction.
After a recent large-scale breeding and mutual slaughter, the number of the slightly advanced Fire Devouring Ants had reached two thousand.
Such a number was already quite rare.
If these Fire Devouring Ants were commanded to attack, even a typical Golden Core would find it extremely troublesome.
What's more, spiritual insects were just one of Ning Daoran's methods.
