In the blink of an eye, a whole year had passed.
The uneventful and safe life aboard the spaceship gradually dulled everyone’s vigilance.
Even Feng Xuezi and Fu Bai had slightly relaxed their watchfulness, turning their attention to cultivating and discussing how to build an improved new formation around the defense belt.
All around was peaceful.
Gradually, everyone began to harbor the thought that perhaps staying here could help them avoid the Great Annihilation.
Yu Hong maintained his habit of visiting Yi Yi Ku Chan once a week; all other times were devoted to cultivation.
He had once again sculpted a metal statue capturing the shape and face of Quan He, but after completing it, he realized that the face felt strange even to himself.
It seemed that even he had slowly forgotten what Quan He really looked like.
Poof.
Yu Hong gently wiped away the face of the metal statue, then lifted his head, staring out the window.
Although the room’s temperature remained steady, a strange chill crept into his heart.
Closing his eyes, he quietly gathered holy power and wrote the two characters "Quan He" on the ground before him.
But when he opened his eyes and looked down, there was nothing there.
It seemed the holy power he had gathered moments ago was just an illusion—he sensed no depletion or change in his own holy power.