"People who have lost their talent, are young people like you able to move?" Ye Qingyang purposely changed his voice into a hoarse old man's voice, his body was covered with black zhenqi so that no one could see what was going on inside. With a wave of his right hand, an unrivaled black whirlwind blew towards the Sand Bandit Army on the ground.
"Falling talent." The military adviser yelled in shock, and slammed the Yabao under him, and the Yabao fled to the sky like a cannonball. Quite a lot. But how could it be higher than Ye Qingyang.
"Want to go?" Ye Qingyang waved his palm, and the black mighty powerful palm quickly pressed over like the palm of a Buddha, grabbing a person and a beast. Seeing that his hands were full, Ye Qingyang squeezed hard and only heard a "Pu Chi. "The sound, coupled with the vision of thunder billowing in the sky, can be regarded as a spectacle.
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!