The golden light on the Pope's Divine Wand shimmered, complementing his golden ritual robe, making him appear immensely dignified. In a deep voice, he said, "Immediately have the dark alien race retreat to the outskirts of the Death Mountain Range, awaiting my further orders; otherwise, my next strike will be ten bolts of Divine Judgment lightning." With his level of cultivation, controlling this Level Eight Magic was relatively easy.
The Moon King and the Wing King had their expressions change at the scene just witnessed. Especially when they realized that standing before them were not only four Red Robe Priests and the Pope, but also the Four Sword Saints. They were suddenly filled with hesitation. Being on the side of darkness, they treasured their lives immensely. As they considered a way to slip away, they heard an ethereal voice, "What's so remarkable about Divine Judgment? Even if there were ten, a hundred, or a thousand, what could it do to me?"
