C1020 Descent of Death!

The gale dispersed.

The dust settled.

Wang Po half knelt on the ground, his fists clenched, as he panted fiercely.

The Evil God was standing a few hundred meters away from him. The blood-red barrier around his body was completely intact, as if it was as smooth and tender as an egg with a broken shell.

"Putong."

Zheng Feiyue, who was hundreds of meters away