Above the sect's main hall, the sect leader ordered me, who had three hundred years of cultivation, to let go of my soul and not resist the soul search by the law enforcement elders to prove my innocence. All the elders and disciples in the hall looked at me with dead eyes, and the Holy Son, who was known as the hope of the sect, secretly rejoiced. They don't know that after three hundred years of silence, I already have Mahayana cultivation, so the so-called soul search is just a ridiculous suggestion. The moment I raised my head to laugh, the mountain guard was wailing, and the sky was dimming. These people who despised me were not worthy of touching my soul.
