Swish… Swish… No one whatsoever could feel the terrible spiritual pressure inside Xu Yangyi’s room. The entire outside world had been locked down by Antonio. However, his initial caution now gave birth to regret as he faced the monster before him.

The plant phantasm had already become more and more distinct. It was different from any Sacred Spirit he’d ever seen.

Simple and pure.

Extremely simple pure.

Apart from those faint slivers of spiritual energy, the unfurling of each leaf and the connection of each vein was telling him that this was merely a simple and pure plant. That and nothing more.

And yet… these faint slivers of spiritual energy made him feel like the tip of a needle was up against his back.

His mind was telling him that the plant was a sick tiger, so sick that it was soon to die. Its carrier was weak—at least to him, Antonio the Great King of the Elves, this was so, but he still didn’t have the idea of seizing it away.

Even a single sliver.

What would he take it away for?

To protect the Elves?

Not to joke, but perhaps the first to flee wouldn’t be anyone else, but rather the only conscious Sacred Spirit, the Whitedeer King Malorne. Furthermore, the king would never return.

On a hopeful field, a leg strode forth and galloped. As the deer gradually moved further and further...