REBIRTH AS A WILLOW TREE, BUILDING THE STRONGEST TRIBE IN ALL OF ETERNITY

Chapter 518: Chapter 379: Just a Trace of the Past, No, You’re the Original_1

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The Willow God’s divine power is unparalleled, an embodiment of exceptional grace, her clothes billowing, a cluster of golden willow branches rippling with the intricate power of runes. She stays suspended above the horizon.

She possesses a tall and graceful figure, her hands as delicate as pure jade, glowing with a beautiful light, effortlessly deflecting the Big Pot summoned by the Principal of Western Church. Under her power, mountain peaks collapse, even the corner of the cobblestone roads are sliced off.

This scene leaves everyone in awe.

It is understood that the Sect Hierarch of the Western Church is believed to be of Supreme status and represents some of the strongest creatures in the Upper Realm.

This existence could annihilate the universe in a snap, silence the galaxies, and with a small step further would step into the realm of legend, true immortality, to become a transcendent, eternal, and undying existence. Yet he’s still no match for the beautiful figure of the Willow God, who effortlessly dissolved all his attacks.

“Interesting, my path lacks a Guardian Tree of the Church, I might as well purify your evil tree today. It could be regarded building a fortune and sheltering peace for the world, exorcising evil!”

The Principal of the Western Church steps on emptiness, his figure slowly materializing from the nothingness.

His voice was profound, speaking nothing but morality and virtue, his bald head shiny, his kasaya shimmering with colorful light. By appearances alone, he seemed to possess the demeanor and grace of a high-ranking monk.

Behind him, Buddha’s silhouette sporadically appears, and the solemn Sanskrit sound constantly echoes, like an army of thousands, much like the rumbling of thunder, but also like a quiet tune, showing all the connotations within a moment.

Some creatures with weak power and particularly unstable minds become hollow-eyed and lost under the Sanskrit sounds. They keep kneeling towards the direction where the Principal of the Western Church is located, like madmen. They don’t stop even after the blood starts flowing from their foreheads, some are even crazily pulling at their own hair, regardless of whether their scalp gets torn off.

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