chapter 389 The Crisis of the Wood Tribe


On the way, the green radish kept a sullen face. Pascal Amos naturally would not go up to talk to it in an annoying way. He just followed it silently, looking at the surrounding environment from time to time.
After turning a few corners and walking for about an incense stick of time, a silver tower appeared in front of them. This tower was three or four hundred feet high, and its surface was not a common cylindrical shape, but an octagonal shape. Each side of the prism was...