"Spirit" is not something from this world.
Sacrifice, faithful followers.
Zhao Yi was familiar with these terms that carried a special nuance.
To the "spirit," its followers were like food on the table, like chives in the garden.
Thus, after the spirit's projection fell, the Eye of Celestial Tribulation began to mete out divine punishment to all the followers.
On one hand, it punished the followers for failing to protect the spirit.
On the other hand, it was to harvest the ripe chives.
"You eat and take—you really are greedy!"
A glint of coldness flashed in Zhao Yi's eyes.
He withdrew his gaze from Yao Su and beckoned to the Eye of Celestial Tribulation above.
"Come on, bring it on!"
"Let me see how many masters you so-called gods have!"
Boom!
Perhaps such impudence had never been seen from a human cultivator before.
The rolling dark clouds exploded with endless thunder.
