Chapter 936

Below, tianzai looks up at the sky. It doesn't look like a fight with the same experts. On the contrary, it looks like an old Taoist temple watching the moon and listening to the falling flowers.

Malone, hundreds of meters away, has been dead. This kind of bearing, this kind of demeanor, is this the so-called Taoist rhyme in China?

How long have you been practicing? What kind of environment can you achieve this?

Are all Chinese friars like this? No wonder it's called practice, which is too much a blow to the enthusiasm of writing ~