Fortunately, by then the mountain peaks had already joined.
Apart from him, the chief disciple of Pan Shi Valley, all the other cultivators of the valley had fallen into a state of slow reaction.
"Cough cough..."
Qiu Li coughed heavily and glanced at the nineteen cultivators opposite him, whose eyes were becoming slightly dull. He found that no one noticed when he laughed afterward.
Only then did he wave his fan-like big hand and patted his chest, taking a long breath of relief.
Next, Qiu Li pinched a magic sign toward the continuous mountain range in mid-air and chanted.
Instantly, the mountain range separated into nineteen small shadows, which entered the bodies of the nineteen cultivators, while the main body flew toward Qiu Li.
"Zhao Ming, take your fellow disciples and protect this object well. Apart from me, let no one else come near," he instructed after the mountain shadows had entered his body and pointed at the white Crystal Soul.
"Yes, senior brother,"
