The purple corpse continued to grab fiercely at the bodyless phantom raven.
Just as this strike was about to land, suddenly... the purple corpse stopped moving, and the wind and sand halted.
A few miles away from this mountain, an old man exuding a fishy odor was being held by the neck by a man.
The old man looked at the man in horror, his face squeezing out a fearful smile, and shouted, "Song... Song Master... Master Uncle... spare..."
Crack.
Song Yan did not hesitate at all, directly twisting the neck, while his other hand joined, pointing to the old man's forehead, soul-searching, soul-devouring, all in one...
After a long while, he discarded the old man's corpse.
In the Puppet Sect, from top to bottom, there wasn't a single innocent person...
Then, the figure of the Profound Robe Ghost Face came from afar, lightly spinning and landing beside him.
