Chapter 1867 Their Little World

In the underworld, it was rare to witness tens of thousands of spirits gathered in unison. Yet today, in the River of Forgetfulness, not a single malevolent spirit dared to surface, nor did any of them remain standing. They even felt relieved that they hadn't attacked Wynter earlier. Otherwise, Dalton might have dealt with them in ways they couldn't imagine. What puzzled them, however, was why their Spirit King—whose energy unmistakably confirmed his identity—had been summoned to the River of Forgetfulness by a cultivator through spirit summoning. Even a great evil lurking in the depths of the river recognized Dalton. His crimson eyes burned with excitement. "My... My Lord..." He clawed his way forward as the surrounding evil spirits shrank back. Never in his existence had he imagined he would see Dalton again. Ever since the underworld was sealed away and Dalton was imprisoned in that desolate wasteland, a place that still struck fear into the hearts of mortals, they had yearned