Twelve Saints stood together, holding hands. Their spiritual fluctuations merged, mutually amplifying and growing stronger.
A visible, deep blue energy wave spread out from them as the center, continuously expanding and washing over their surroundings.
The forest behind them seemed to be swept by relentless gusts of wind, its branches and leaves rustling loudly.
The horses pulling the carts neighed miserably and fled in panic. One of them crashed into a large tree and fell to the ground, convulsing.
Meanwhile, from both sides of the path behind Chen Gu and his group, a large crowd of long-headed people burst out. They were not only numerous but also all psychics. They held spiritual power muskets, even more refined than the Cyclops's dual pistols, their dark muzzles pointed at the group, cutting off their retreat.
