The comments said I was deeply affectionate, I just added points by using an alternate account.

[Hahahaha, 5,000 words! That's devastating, Instructor Jing!]

[Instructor Jing: You're awesome at fighting, but let's see how awesome you are at writing.]

[Chen Guan: I just saved the world, and now you're punishing me by making me write a self-criticism? Is there no justice in this world?]

"And you."

Instructor Jing seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, turning to stare at Liu Feiyu, who was tiptoeing and inching backward, trying to slip away.

"You brat from the Liu family, don't think I can't see you just because you're quiet. You want to steal a tenth-tier demon core? Here you go."

Liu Feiyu's feet suddenly froze on the spot, and the demon core flew out of his pocket and into Instructor Jing's hand.

He could only watch helplessly, like a powerless husband.

Instructor Jing weighed it in his hand with satisfaction. It was an authentic copy, so he would take it back.

At this point, the site cleanup was basically complete.

Several large medical transport planes were hovering above the tower, the strong winds whipped up by their propellers making it almost impossible for people to stand.

"Everyone has it!"

Instructor Jing clapped his hands, the sound piercing through the enormous noise.

"If you're not missing an arm or a leg, board the plane yourself. Listen, remember to keep your mouth shut about what happened tonight..."

He didn't mention the consequences, but simply grinned, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth.

Su Yuehe walked to Chen Guan's side, her voice low and filled with worry: "Are you... alright?"

Although I am confident in my superpowers, pain will still occur.

Chen Guan shook his head and reached out to adjust the straps of the black coffin on his back.

The familiar, heavy weight pressing down on his scarred shoulders brought him an inexplicable sense of peace.

The main body is still dormant inside. As long as Lao Ji is alright, these superficial injuries are nothing.

He strode towards the plane.

But just as his foot was about to step onto the deck of the aircraft, a slight clicking sound from deep within the ruins reached his ears.

The sound was like shattering glass.

Chen Guan's foot, which was about to be raised, stopped in mid-air, and his body also froze.

He turned around abruptly, his gaze fixed on the empty space where the Thousand-Faced Moth had turned to ashes.

There was nothing there; even the ashes had been dried up by the night wind.

But right in his field of vision, in that very spot, a thin black line appeared out of thin air and vanished in an instant.

The feeling was like blinking.

"What's wrong?"

An Changqing, who was walking ahead, noticed that something was wrong with him, stopped, and turned around to ask.

Chen Guan stared at that space.

The crack is gone.

It all seemed like his illusion.

"...It's nothing."

He withdrew his gaze, turned around, boarded the plane, and sat down in the corner, concealing the turbulent thoughts in his eyes.

illusion?

No.

Chen Guan's eyebrows were almost twisted into a knot.

The plane took off, leaving the dilapidated Ten Thousand Demon Tower far behind.

Instructor Jing stood at the open hatch, looking down at the gradually shrinking ruins below, and the casual smile on his face slowly disappeared.

He pressed the button on his headset: "Nan Dou."

A rapid clatter of keyboard clicks came through the headset, followed by Nandou's standard, deadpan voice: "I'm here."

Instructor Jing stared at the increasingly distant black dot below and asked a question.

"Was there something that opened a door just now, at the spot where the Thousand-Faced Moth died?"

"Data backtracking display."

Nandou's voice was objective and devoid of any emotion.

"The spatial fluctuation peak experienced an abnormal jump after the target died, lasting for 0.03 seconds, and the beacon source could not be located."

Instructor Jing snorted, it was unclear who he was mocking.

"It seems the problems in the North are more numerous than I thought; the boss didn't mention this part."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the few teenagers in the cabin.

They either closed their eyes to rest or bent their heads to tend to their wounds.

Finally, his gaze fell on Chen Guan, who was sitting with his arms crossed, looking as if he were asleep.

"Kid."

He muttered in a voice only he could hear.

"Your troubles are probably just beginning. Until Long Ao grows up, we can only rely on you."

Chen Guan huddled in the corner of the cabin, his head against the cold cabin wall, without even lifting his eyelids.

To outsiders, this hero who had just slain the demon king was still exhausted from the battle, exuding a cold and lonely aura that kept strangers at bay.

He was completely unaware of Instructor Jing's thoughts and was engrossed in the forum.

He was thinking that since he could communicate with the viewers on the other side of the screen through the forum, could he create an account himself?

He'll be the one to take on this role as an "uncle's brother."

You can also take a couple of photos and post them to see if you can gain popularity points this way.

Since Lao Ji's problems can be attributed to him, there's no reason why this method shouldn't work.

Create a new account.

The light screen unfolded on his retina.

Please enter your ID: _______

His fingers paused, and he pondered for a moment.

"Let's call it..."

[ID confirmed: Cheerful Netizen 9527]

Then, he pulled up several screenshots that the system had automatically captured during the battle and quickly browsed through them.

"This one, no, it's too perfect."

"This one... the lighting is too dim, it won't work either."

"Got it."

In the scene, Long Ao was blasted away, half of his face covered in blood, but he was still struggling and roaring at the sky.

The youthful passion is almost overflowing from the screen; keep it.

Next one.

Liu Feiyu sat on the broken steel beam, a coin about to fall from his fingertip, his back view lofty and the composition perfect.

Leave!

Chen Guan's fingers traced across the light screen as he continued scrolling down.

In the scene, An Changqing is kneeling on the rubble, leaning on his sword, with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are still bright as he looks at the distant night sky.

A sense of brokenness, a feeling of honorable defeat, washes over you.

"Keep this one too," he said to Tongzi.

He completely deleted all the images of himself harvesting with a sickle.

This isn't a one-hit wonder, and the audience isn't watching a merciless knife-wielding machine. He's ruining the atmosphere.

Finally, he selected nine images.

There's a profile shot of Long Ao, covered in blood yet still roaring and punching; Su Yuehe and the others, back to back, in a solemn defensive posture; Liu Feiyu's solitary figure standing atop the dome; and another image, a group portrait of everyone exhausted and silent under the lights after the battle.

Tongzi is quite skilled at taking photos.

He arranged the nine pictures in order and uploaded them to the forum.

[Posted by: Cheerful Netizen 9527]

[Title: None]

[Text: None]

They're stingy with even punctuation marks, and their profile picture is a minimalist black and white default image.

He pressed the send button and then waited for a response.

The silence in the forum lasted only three seconds.

Three seconds later, this post, which had no title and contained bizarre content, exploded like a depth charge in the forum late at night.