On the eighth layer of the Spirit Temple, the most beautiful and tranquil level completely transformed within minutes.
All the beautiful things in Gao Ming's eyes turned into disasters related to Ghost Gods. The earth, trees, streams, even the wind in the air transformed into ghostly flags of the Ghost Gods.
"Perhaps this is the true appearance of the Spirit Temple." Gao Ming grabbed a handful of shrubs, all of which turned to ashes from burning paper money, crumbling at a touch: "The Ghost Gods in Zhemeng Town are indeed different from those ordinary townspeople. They were never deceived by the Spirit Temple; they entered here not to become immortals, but to monopolize the Nine-layered Spirit Temple."
He patted the trembling deer and softly comforted it: "Don't be afraid, no matter what your true form is, I will ensure your safety."
After saying that, Gao Ming hid under the deer's body. He did not want to reveal himself too quickly.
