Waiting, dull and lengthy.
In the blink of an eye, more than three hours had passed.
Quan Chang, who was assigned to evacuate the clan's people, had not returned yet.
The Ghost Clan ancestor who had gone to the other spatial passages for aid hadn't returned either.
If it weren't for the fact that Quan Huai and nine other Ghost Clan members of the Seventh Realm were still guarding the front of the spatial rift, along with a host of Ghost Clan elites, even intermittently assigned to arrange something around the sporadically twisting spatial rift - Li Jing would have believed that the Ghost Clan was ready to surrender the Ghost Clan Holy City without a fight.
It was nearing midnight.
Li Jing, bored to death, was keeping guard in front of the Central Sacred Temple's door. He had the Spirit Weapon Qingfeng stand guard for him while he found an empty space nearby, took out pots, bowls and pans, and started cooking on the spot.
He had no other choice.