Master Mo turned around and glanced at it lightly. Thousands of miles of rivers in the north of the desert, Gobi poplars, all in the bottom of the eye. "Little friend, you wait outside for a while." I gritted my teeth, not knowing how to respond. Master Mo smiled, turned his head, and strode into the thick ghost mist. Immediately afterwards, five old Taoist priests also stepped in. Not long after, in the thick ghost fog, there was a terrible scream, and a...

Chapter 115 of "The Journey Between the Guests of the Underworld" The old acquaintance of the dead-headed lion is hitting in the hand, please wait a moment,

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