Luo Hou’s location was still about seven or eight light-years away from the little satellite where Qin Yi had stopped, but the distance was vast on all sides and it was basically impossible to pinpoint exactly.
He had even opened a small sub-plane, which made him that much harder to find.
Inside that sub-plane there were subordinate troops, and he had even built palaces — quite lavish.
Luo Hou sat on his throne silently nursing his wounds, staring at the somewhat desolate palace, his eyes full of hatred.
“Desolate” wasn’t exactly the right word — he did have a not-insignificant number of subordinates — but sadly there were no true powerhouses among them.
Back when his troops had been completely wiped out by Liusu and Yaoguang, Luo Hou’s new followers hadn’t yet been raised.
Even though he could forcibly elevate others’ cultivation, he couldn’t do it on a large scale — that consumed his own energy.
He couldn’t churn out Taiching-level cultivators in batches.
So far he had only forcibly raised two to early Taiching; the rest were at the unmanifested level.