A strange storm, unreasonable, rushed into the palace. That enormous church, appearing in Wen Xishu's eyes, started to distort and deform.
It was like a hot summer, with the scene before his eyes separated by a layer of mist.
Wen Xishu only felt that the old headmaster seemed to have done nothing.
The old man had just swung his fist a moment ago, and the next second, everyone's attention turned to the church. When they refocused their attention...
Wen Xishu discovered that the old headmaster's aura seemed never to have fluctuated at all.
And everything in the church began to change.
The membranes of the angels' wings began to fade, turning back into a plaster texture.
The huge evil creatures lurking in the church no longer exposed those organs dripping with viscous liquid, because those organs—had already vanished with the mysterious storm.
The silent and invisible fist of destruction.
