The valley, in an instant, had transformed into a molten inferno.
Every vicious spellbeast within had been roasted alive, sending plumes of thick black smoke into the air, accompanied by the overwhelming aroma of charred meat.
Looking around, the faces of these spellbeasts, scorched to crispness by the flames, still bore expressions of agony and regret.
Owen, watching this scene with an indifferent expression, calmly collected all the corpses into his divine idol.
These spellbeasts were all high-tier beings—there was no way he would waste them!
After all, in the system's pawnshop, their strength was worth quite a sum in divine points.
Then, his attention quickly shifted to the Gilded Eagle Feather.
At this moment, the Gilded Eagle Feather hovered in front of him, gleaming like a razor-sharp golden blade, radiating a terrifyingly keen aura that seemed capable of slicing through one's vision!
