If Old Mo hadn't been honing his Eight Gates Escape Armor, the Sea Race and Demon Race would have been wiped out long ago had he used such a Talent against them.
Junlin stared at the water-barrel-thick purple Thunderbolt, an inexplicable fear creeping into his heart.
Would getting hit by that mean certain death?
Scared, scared indeed.
Even the King of Spraying King Pen Duanchang, known for his sharp tongue, chose to keep his mouth shut at this moment. After all, there was no way to effectively criticize Old Mo here.
What if Old Mo got agitated, grabbed Wanwan, and chased after him? That would be disastrous.
Just thinking about it was terrifying.
"Da Lang, what's with that eager look of yours?" Half-Leaf's mouth twitched as he quickly grabbed Da Lang doesn't drink medicine and said, "Don't mess around; you could really die. If you fail the Sect Leader's task, you'll get a beating."
Hearing this, everyone else looked over.
