As a master in the Mahayana stage, traveling thousands of miles in an instant is just a trivial matter. Zong Yi left the abyss with his front foot and stepped into Potian Palace with his back foot. He placed the young man on the bed made of ten thousand years of chalcedony, lifted up his blood-stained robe with his fingertips, and looked at his scarred body.
One set of seven-star bone-corroding nails can destroy the bones of a cultivator in the foundation-building stage, let alone five sets. The young man's internal organs were exhausted, his meridians shrank and disappeared, his bones were blackened and cracked, even his spiritual roots were completely damaged, and there was a big bloody hole in his Dantian. The person who did it was too despicable and vicious.
"Who is it?" Zong Yi had no expression on his face, but his deep voice was full of murderous intent. Black sword energy emanated from his body, cutting several cracks in the Gengjin floor. Fearing that he might hurt the young man, he immediately restrained his momentum and gently and lovingly stroked his pale cheek.
Adler said with red eyes, "It's Mo Yu. But I don't want you to help me get revenge, I want to do it myself." I don't know who is the son of destiny in this world. He will not kill easily, but there is something more painful than death in the world. Sooner or later, he would inflict the pain he had endured on Mo Yu a thousand times over.
"Okay, what my disciple says is whatever it is." Zong Yi nodded, covering his ulcerated wound with his palm, and said comfortingly, "Master, I will help you pull out the bone-corroding nail. It may be a little painful, so bear with it." Don't cry again this time. "I feel sorry for you.
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