Sewing Taoist

Others are cultivating immortals, grabbing spiritual veins, seizing opportunities, breaking the traces of the path, trampling on the genius, and pushing them all the way to the union. Chen Xiu squatted on the side of the road, threading needles and sewing threads, sewing up the cracks they had made on the ground one by one. A certain sect elder pointed at his nose and scolded the evil cultivator. He turned around and discovered that there were three hundred years of hidden wounds hidden in his Dao marks. He sewed them securely with a casual stitch, breaking through the bottleneck on the spot. A certain demonic ancestor tore up half of a mountain in an attempt to release the Dao Fire. When he turned around, he saw that the three thousand Dao Marks he had worked so hard to swallow were strung together with cotton threads, and he could not even lift his hands. Later, all the monks in the world went crazy—— Please stop sewing Chen! If you continue to sew, we won't even be able to collapse! Chen Sui wiped his hands and pointed at the big crack at the end of the world that no one could see: Why are you so anxious? You won't have to die when I finish sewing this last hole.