But such a bright light only lasted for a second or two before disappearing.
At this moment, Fan Wu planted the Demon-slaying Sword firmly into the ground.
His hands pressed against the end of the hilt.
He stood quietly.
The place where Fan Wu currently was happened to be the temple that had been leveled to the ground before, which also served as one of the main bases of the Myriad Sons Ghost King in the Great Yan Dynasty.
The raindrops, large as soybeans, falling on his head did not disturb Fan Wu, who was completely drenched by the rain, indifferent like a statue, silently towering over the area.
Like a majestic iron tower.
Unaffected by the wind and rain.
I stand tall and unyielding!
A drop of rain fell on Fan Wu's temple, then slid down his sharply defined face to his chin. As such a raindrop splashed onto the muddy ground vertically, the atmosphere around him became extremely wrong.
