As Fang Gui and his group gradually approached the East China Sea, fewer and fewer people came to block the road and earned fame. It was not that the cultivators became less and less willing to win fame, but that Fang Gui became more and more famous and fewer people dared to be beaten. From the beginning, they could find people to fight every day, and at least one great fight every three days, but later, they were in the air for a day or two, and even couldn't get a phone to play for three or four days.

After finally reaching these twenty-seven or eight heavens, Fang Gui was listening to the movements outside with his ears. When he heard that someone stopped the Dharma boat, he was overjoyed and shouted: "Don't rob me of anyone!" Then he flew out excitedly.

But when I saw it, I couldn't help but be stunned.

This time, the one who came here was a young man, with a group of people holding various boxes behind him.

Not only that, when the young man saw him, he immediately rushed into his arms and cried: "Uncle Fang..."

"Why are you here?"

Fang Gui looked at the little nephew Qingfeng of Danhuo Sect who was snot and tears in front of him, and his face was full of strangeness.

"I can't help but come..."

Qingfeng cried and complained: "My master has no ability and can't teach me anything. As a result, he talks about his own decent seven little saints in the previous generation. The disciples he taught now cannot even line up the twelve little saints of this generation. I feel a little embarrassed. There is no way, so let me come to you. Uncle Master, please give me a seat with a big pen..."

While crying, he pointed to the back and said, "Bo, look, these are all filial piety to you..."
Chapter completed!