A glint of light flashed in Zhang Deming's eyes. As his Spiritual Power surged, his entire body went limp and collapsed to the ground, transforming into a small, inconspicuous vine. Amidst the swirling gray mist, it didn't stand out in the slightest.
Well... its color was a bit too vibrant, but under the cover of the swirling gray mist, it didn't look out of place.
Among the crowd of knee-high puppets, one, just as inconspicuous as the others, furrowed its brow slightly and tilted its head to look in the direction where Zhang Deming had vanished.
Spiritual Light flickered in the puppet's eyes, but it found nothing out of the ordinary. It was as if its earlier Perception had been a mere illusion, a stray ripple from the battle's aftershock. But they were quite far from that spot; it shouldn't have been close enough to trigger anything.
