A calm voice suddenly resounded through the sky, and the sound was like the collision of broken ice in a cold night, cold and clear yet with a hint of dignity.
The seven kings were shocked. They had never thought that someone would dare to confront Pride at this time.
When they looked up, they saw a black feather cloak flowing down like ink, the wide hem fluttering gently, and each feather flashing with a cold luster, as if it was the depth cut out from the night sky.
He was tall and upright, his figure looked even more slender in the black feather cloak, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. With every move he made, the black feather cloak swayed slightly, as if he was a night crow flapping its wings in the darkness, ready to fly, with an innate mystery and nobility.
On his face, he was wearing a pitch-black crow mask, a half-face mask. A few strands of scattered black hair draped over his cold jaw under the mask, and his fair skin seemed to have been tempered by the frost and snow on a cold night.
“This attire... belongs to someone from the Holy Temple. Could it be..." the Dragon King said in horror.
At this time, the mysterious man moved. He stretched out his white and slender fingers and gently tapped the crack in the abyss.
Buzz!
A huge wave suddenly appeared.
Immediately afterwards, a shocking scene appeared. The terrifying evil Buddha that was about to be born suddenly shattered in an instant, collapsing piece by piece like a bubble.
"Heh." An arrogant chuckle came from under the silver-white mask, and his indifferent eyes looked at the black feather cloak.
"Who do I think it is? You are probably the only one who has the leisure to save these ants... Night Crow."
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