In an instant, the black fog covered a hundred miles around Jingshan city, rolling and rolling like the waves in a storm.
When an ordinary man was angry, blood would splatter three feet, and when an Emperor was angry, millions of corpses would be buried.
So what if the gods were angry?
The soldiers 'fight was once again held back. Around Jingshan city, the few survivors raised their heads and looked at the black fog above their heads in horror.
The black mist suddenly collapsed with an overwhelming force, and condensed into a black shadow that was a thousand feet tall above the altar. Its face was blurry.
Those who dared to look directly at the black shadow died on the spot.
The thousand-foot shadow and the thousand-foot shadow were like two giants that had created the world.
"The Confucian Saint!"
From the black shadow came an ethereal and Grand voice. It sounded like anger, hatred, and sigh.
