The abyss fissure opened a third time in the north, and the black wizard's army of corpses was eating the pass; the Holy See of Light sent a messenger, asking him to hand over the newly tamed frost dragon cub; the Southern Merchant Alliance handed the poisonous wine in front of him, saying, "The spiritual field belongs to me, and you keep your life."
Lin Zhao sat on the threshold of the ruined temple, looking at the cave in the bronze lamp - the spiritual field had expanded to a thousand acres, spiritual crystals were condensed in the cold pool, and in the deepest dragon's cave, the dragon cub was breathing ice breath to help him refine his sword.
He crushed the wine cup of the merchant alliance, and the Cold Pond Spiritual Liquid splashed on the envoy's face: "Tell you, master, my cave can raise dragons, create life, and grow grass of the living dead. When it evolves into the small world of Creation -" He raised his eyes, his gaze penetrated the desolate ridge, "The heads of the black wizards and the cracks in the abyss will all have to make room in my Qingqiu fields."
