After putting away the Gu worm, the last Daoist stepped forward and handed over an item.
"Cough cough… cough cough… Fellow Daoist Nine Nether… I don't have anything to give you either."
"There's a bottle of… crow ink here. If you don't mind, give it to… Fellow Daoist."
The last person was the one whose cultivation was weaker than the other two.
As he spoke, he held his chest tightly. It seemed that he was quite injured.
His cultivation had not reached the top of the world, and he could only join the battle with his artifacts.
However, the Five Plague Daoist and the Grass Lady did not underestimate him because of this.
This was because his methods were too disgusting and troublesome. Even if he won the battle, his outcome would not be good.
As the name suggested, the cultivation method and divine art he grasped did not cultivate providence but bad luck instead.
