Harry D'Amour and Deep Throat suddenly looked up.
Ethereal blue energy began to ripple through the air around them. Without realizing it, their bodies had already been contaminated by it.
The two instantly felt like mice caught on a glue trap.
They could not move in the slightest, not even blink.
Harry D'Amour's hand was still held in the posture of reversing the Box of Mourning, frozen just like that. Nailhead had already restrained them.
The enormous sky-piercing finger high above continued to descend.
In the end, they had underestimated the strength of a pseudo-Hell-level being. That was definitely not something a demon or a High Priest could contend with.
All kinds of debris and dirt continued to fall from the ceiling.
A member of the government congress was struck squarely on the forehead by a slab of ceiling and died on the spot.
They too were imprisoned where they stood.
It's over! Harry D'Amour cried bitterly inwardly.
In this situation, he did not even have the chance to take out that personal Thought Prison. Death was his only option.
Boom!
The ceiling completely shattered. Everyone in the underground room felt intense suffocation and dizziness. As far as the eye could see, there were only ghostly blue Fingers of Death.
It was as though the sky above their heads was collapsing as well.
No, perhaps the sky really had collapsed.
Because it had thrust directly down from beyond the atmosphere, and even now it had punched a massive hole through it.
Just as everyone, including Harry, the Hell High Priest who had taken office less than a day ago, was about to die—
Blood bubbles suddenly surged from the cracks in the floor.
Gurgle, gurgle!
The dozens of criminals lying on the ground, who had been drained into mummies, began