For Fang Zheng, finding the Right Hand of God was no trouble at all, but why should he go looking for them?
Wouldn't it be better to let them come to him?
Besides, a monk might run away, but could the temple run away too?
Obviously not.
So the answer was simple.
Fang Zheng stopped and looked up at the magnificent building before him.
Saint Peter's Grand Cathedral.
It was the symbol and center of power of the Roman Orthodox Church, as well as Michelangelo's proudest work. But to Fang Zheng, it was merely a Main Hall that was about to collapse.
Fang Zheng extended his hand.
Flames burned before him. Then, the Pitch Black Greatsword silently emerged in his hand. The tourists and guards nearby were rather surprised by the sight, but before they could react, Fang Zheng gripped the Pitch Black Greatsword, raised it high, and casually swung it down at the Main Hall before him.
"-------!!"
It took only an instant.
A howling gale swept over them, forcing the surrounding tourists to retreat. At the same time, the airflow condensed from the Pitch Black Greatsword spiraled forth, turning into invisible blades that pierced straight through the historic structure. When the storm dispersed, everyone heard an explosive roar. In the next moment, the dome of Saint Peter's Grand Cathedral burst apart completely, and the entire building crumbled into dust and scattered with the wind.
All that remained were a few pitiful broken walls and ruins, along with the tourists who had been visiting the cathedral, staring at one another in bewilderment, unable to understand what had happened.
Fang Zheng, however, did not care.
He raised his head and looked at the cathedral's ruins before him.
"Right Hand of God, get the hell out here!"
Before Fang Zheng's words