Chen Ping ignored the panicked monks, and his right hand had already taken out the half-man-tall soul urn from the groove.
A trace of black and white flames flashed from his fingertips, and he gently lit it on the soul urn.
The flame seemed weak, but it contained great power.
The soul patterns on the surface of the soul urn split instantly, and several light blue soul threads floated out of it, and as soon as they touched the air, they flew towards the distance like frightened birds.
It was the remnant soul of a monk whose soul had already been withdrawn, lost its host, and could only wander aimlessly.
They float in the air, as if looking for their home.
“That’s …… Soul Silk! A white-haired old man said in a trembling voice, his eyes full of disbelief.
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