Over thirty Golden Pill Monks were dumbfounded.
Then, they felt a surge of anger rise from the soles of their feet all the way to the crown of their heads, heating their three vital souls and seven mortal forms to an unbearable scalding temperature, their eyes blood-red.
They had been attacking the Formation Method of Dizifeng Peak, expending untold efforts.
And this person arrived, merely lifting his lips, plotting to take it all away.
What kind of reasoning was that?
"Kill him..."
Without the need for further words, the crowd unleashed a barrage of Magic and Treasures, locking on with Divine Sense, ready to ensure his escape–even with wings–would be impossible, teaching him in the underworld the principle of 'who pops their head out first gets their head rotten'.
"Hold on."
At this moment, an old man with a goat beard interjected.
