"There is not much combat power left, but more than enough to kill you." Ye Chen is cold hum, not much nonsense, direct attack.
"That's a big voice." Wheel Ming will be furious, step across, go to the sky, holding the wheel seal in hand.
Everywhere we went, there was a man who was swung and his body exploded.
Everywhere, there are people chattering blood, the picture is bloody.
It's a picture of lawlessness. It's too scary.
The spectators were all open mouthed for a long time.
That's seventy-two Ming generals! Eight quasi saints and 64 saints were killed by one man.
Ye Chen's strength has been seriously unconventional, which makes people feel that he is not a quasi saint, but a Saint King level.
"Go." The first Ming general under the throne first counseled and dragged his blood to drench his body. He withdrew from the battle circle and ran away from the distance.
"Go?" Ye Chen sneers, three or five leaps to catch up.
"Do you really want to live forever?" The first ghost under the throne will drink violently, his eyes are red and his forehead is exposed.
"For your stew?" Ye Chen scolded, a stick will send it to the sky, has not yet fallen, the flesh has melted blood fog.
There was only one yuan God, sealed into the copper furnace by Ye Chen.
Each temple ghost general, which also has the mind to fight, each flees.
They would like to go, but ye Chen did not do it. He had already killed his red eyes. Every temple would escape in front of him, and he would chase after him.
If you catch up with me, what you haven't said will be discussed with a mallet.
After opening the domineering body, his fighting power and speed have been completely superior to the Ming generals in each hall. This is absolute suppression.
No matter the sage, or the king to be, no one can carry his stick, one after another, blooming on the empty sky.