Seven white spheres of light hovered above the Daoist's head, strands of Extreme Origin hanging down.
Countless beams of moonlight, visible and invisible, converged on his Cultivation Body, stirring the light around and making the hillside seem haunted.
This also made the Daoist's face flicker between light and darkness, casting his expression into even greater solemnity and chill.
A Holocaust True Sun had drawn five-tenths of the Extreme Origin from Yi Chen's body, and after the earlier battle, it was time for Yi Taoist to "recharge."
Zuo Qianfu was busy pouring drinks for Yi Chen and Miao Zi at his side.
Miao Zi held up a sea bowl with both paws, clinking it against Yi Chen's: "Dad, you really have it tough."
"Why do they all have to push you?"
