On one side of the small space, a meditation mat was placed on the ground, worn thin to a mere layer, its color a dark yellow, indicating that the strong person who meditated here did so for a long time. It was just unknown who had sat upon it in those years.
Next to the meditation mat, leaning against the wall, there was a heavy sword with a pitch-black hue and faint red light faintly circulating around it, as if it carried a baleful fire, exuding a fierce aura.
Xu Fan felt the aura of the heavy sword, fierce and cold, yet it was not killing intent or malevolence.
It was—Demonic Qi!
Xu Fan lightly waved his sleeve, creating a gust of wind that dispersed this aura.
If it had been an ordinary Martial King caught off guard by this Demonic Qi, their consciousness could easily have sunk, losing rationality and turning into a bloodthirsty, murderous demon.
But Xu Fan, having seen much and knowing much, was unfazed by the Demonic Qi; he simply dispersed it with a wave.