- "I don't need him back, never." ”

This was He Yuanchen's last sentence to him.

As soon as the words fell, before he could figure out what the master meant by this, the white mist had completely overflowed the illusion, completely eroding the afterimage into a memory. In an instant, the surrounding scenery was annihilated, as if when he was seven years old, the golden hairpin grass under the courtyard wall that he had sucked away its vitality was so brittle that it shattered into dust and smoke at the slightest touch, and disappeared with the wind.

The feeling of weightlessness quickly hit, and Zhao Hanjing hung tears on his face, and fell back from the stone steps back to the god case of the broken temple. Two poison darts were thrown at his face, and the crisp impact sound of the tip of the knife was like a slanted past his ear, and a "senior brother" woke him up and was still immersed in illusion

Chapter 47 of the "Sanqitang Medical Record Book" (Zhao Yuanguang · 14) Hand hit, please wait a moment,

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