"Take a hit from my stool!"
Fang Qingyun swung the stool in his hand.
What appeared to be an ordinary stool was actually a sacred weapon, shadowing Zhao Heng, and with a resounding thud, it heavily slammed onto his body.
A ripple in space, visible to the naked eye, surged out in all directions.
Circle after circle of spatial ripples layered upon one another.
The storm it stirred up uprooted the village gate entirely, tossing it into the air, while the ground beneath the two men's feet collapsed with a rumble, cracks spreading across the surface.
As it spread in all directions,
the ground continued to collapse and sink, simultaneously dragging the ancient village's buildings into the earth.
Screams and cries of shock echoed from within the village.
"Not good!"
Fang Qingyun's expression changed sharply, and with a wave of his hand, the entire village seemed to freeze.
There were countless invisible hands, protecting the villagers one by one.
