The intense air currents blew through Zhang Rongfang's long hair, pulling it back and making it fly.
The Stone God's fist was frozen in midair, no longer moving.
It breathed heavily and roughly, its gray stone eyes fixed on Zhang Rongfang, as if looking at an enemy who killed its father.
In a certain sense, the relationship between the two at this moment was indeed similar to that of a family massacre.
"That's right." After obtaining much insight into the Divine Buddha from the White Scale God, Zhang Rongfang understood how to deal with such beings.
And his refined proficiency in the Cultivation of Literature was the real channel of communication.
In the mist, Zhang Rongfang carefully surveyed the huge stone man across from him.
This guy's entire body was made up of jagged stones, stacked together, with no connectors at the joints, just gaps.
He didn't know what held them together.
