The eight gates opened simultaneously, surrounding him just like Bedirhan Leitner's.
Eight gates encircled his body.
"Fall!" Braydon Neal commanded, pointing in all directions.
Boom!
The eight ancient gates instantly grew to tens of thousands of miles in height, landing within a radius of 80,000 miles.
"Seal!" Braydon uttered again.
The word 'seal' echoed, and the surrounding tens of thousands of miles were locked down.
Not a single black wolf could escape.
Divine blood splattered across the sky as the white-robed figure wielded the Soul Slaying Sword.
With a single stroke, the black wolves fell, their godlike status reduced to nothing more than that of pigs and dogs in Braydon's eyes.
He had slain over a thousand so-called gods by himself!
Even a true god could be killed—what were pseudo-gods to him?
It was a long, lonely night.
