Inside the Trading Hall, the stench of sweat from survivors mingled with the reek of blood.
Several hundred people were crammed together, and the atmosphere was heavy.
The City Defense Army soldiers were busy distributing fresh water and rations.
From a corner, the groans of the wounded came intermittently.
Han Feng turned a deaf ear to it all.
He was squatting in front of the Crystal Pillar at the center of the hall.
A wisp of silver-white Sword Essence danced on his fingertip.
He was performing a delicate operation on the complex Energy Circuits.
"Fengzi, what… what are you fiddling with?"
Wang Meng sidled up, his words muffled by the half-eaten piece of beef jerky in his mouth.
"Optimizing."
Han Feng didn't even turn his head.
His fingertips sliced through the air, leaving behind silvery trails that lingered without dispersing.
The previous repairs had just been an emergency measure.
