"No," Zhang Lian Xing said disdainfully,"it seems that the Holy Land of gai yang is quite poor and treats the spirit rice soup as a treasure."
Their voices were not loud.
The disciples of the Holy Land of gai yang were not far away, so they could hear him clearly.
"You bastards, who are you calling poor? Isn't my Holy Land a hundred times richer than your sect's?" A man with a scar on his face looked over fiercely.
Xia qingchen couldn't be bothered to waste his breath on them.
"You guys continue." Xia qingchen spoke calmly. When he saw that the spirit rice was finally fully cooked, he lifted the lid of the pot.
a massive ball of white mist immediately shot out with a heaven-shaking fragrance.
The members of abyss and dusk, who were in a confrontation, were attracted by the shocking phenomenon.
"What's that? it smells so good!"
"Such dense spiritual energy!"
