When his thoughts turned to the statue of the God of Light.
His vision was chaotic, an amalgamation of countless scenes merging into an incomprehensible gradient, and his ears couldn't distinguish the persistent voices echoing in his mind.
Although those voices were neither piercing nor bizarre, the dense, rhythmic noise, constantly heard but never fully comprehensible, was still somewhat irksome.
If he hadn't guessed wrong.
Those were likely the prayers and wishes of countless believers.
The faith of the masses is truly terrifying.
Perhaps you can hear the pleas of one person, ten people, or even a hundred.
But you would never withstand the voices of tens of millions.
Because you are not a true divine being.
...
"Do I still need to go?"
Understanding the current state of the City of Light, Zuo Fang asked seriously.
