When lightning struck, I was sitting in the corner of the ruined temple, staring at the weird APP on the screen of my mobile phone in a daze.
To be honest, this disaster came too suddenly.
Before I could react, a purple lightning bolt as thick as a bucket blasted through the roof of the temple, wrapped in a pungent burnt smell, and hit me directly on the head. And the guy who was standing at the door just now - the delivery boy, wearing a yellow jacket and holding a spicy hotpot in his hand, was almost stunned.
His name is Qin Muyu, a monk at the Golden Core stage.
I read his information when I was kicked out of the sect. He has three spiritual roots. He cultivated for forty years before forming an elixir. In the world of immortality, he is the kind of ordinary thing that cannot be found in a crowd of people. But at this moment, his eyes were staring, his lips were trembling, and the lunch box in his hand was shaking. He looked even more embarrassed than a good-for-nothing like me.
