Really look dignified, you can give up killing Jin Yu, take back the blue light and make a blue flame to burn against the first sun fire!
This time, it was almost a collision, and the blue flame was swallowed up by the sun’s fine fire!
You must know that there is a trace of magical power in this sun fire!
True blue flame root can’t resist!
The essence of the sun is shrouded in fire, so it can really retreat.
He took a deep breath and suddenly sat cross-legged, chanting the golden light from the tattoo.
This is the real Tibetan!
The essence of the sun will really be wrapped up and burned and refined.
Really put your hands together and be covered with golden light, and sit in the flame to urge Yuan divine power to resist!
"Ha ha!"
The first wife sneered, "I’ll see how long you can hold on!" "
The vast magic edge of the first God knowledge keeps pouring into the essence of the sun.
The flame climbed to a height of more than ten feet, and the golden light was surging, and the real figure would soon be swallowed up!
Looking at the flame, the excited crowd gradually calmed down.
Many monks have a dim look in their eyes
"Who else are you Terrans!"
The first emperor stepped on it with great momentum and stood up. "Who dares to come out and fight me!"
No one responded.
"What a bunch of rubbish!"
The first spat look disdain sneer at a way: "Your Terran destiny is exhausted, and the era of the ancient emperors has passed! You cowards are left! You don’t deserve God! "
Every word of Taitai seems to stab many monks in the heart.
Some people are angry, some people are not unwilling.
But no one can come out.
Because many monks know in their hearts that even if they come out, they will be killed easily by the first one, which is a humiliation.
They can’t resist it!
"Terrans don’t deserve you, a flat-haired beast!"
A cold sound came in from the outside and caused an uproar!
Chapter one thousand five hundred and fifty Strong shura!
Flat-haired beast!
God, who dares to call the Sun clan flat-haired animals?
Is this really not afraid of death?
This sound is hoarse and low, but it has an indescribable magic. It doesn’t seem to look at the living race!
Who!
Who has the guts!
Who has such verve!
Group repair looked askance in succession.
Not far away, a monk came slowly with white hair, cold eyes and dark right hand dragging a long knife wrapped in magic gas.
"Shura!"
"It’s Shura Yan Beichen!"
There was an exclamation in the crowd