Pulling Out The Gun Of St. Jolanginus, I Decided To Keep A Low Profile

"Swinburne, you are courting death!"

Seeing the tragic situation in the inner city of Rome, St. Will's pupils shrank suddenly like needles, and a strong bright flame burst out from his body. With a quick flash, he rushed to Swinburne.

With an angry punch, the air was torn apart in an instant, and the sound of breaking through the air resounded.

"Hey! You are the one who is looking for death, the flesh and blood barrier!"

As soon as the words fell, endless black flesh and blood poured out from under the black robe, quickly forming a wall of flesh and blood, blocking Saint Will.

Chi Chi Chi!

White light penetrated the wall of flesh and blood like lightning, while he floated back, cold and terrifying laughter resounded throughout Rome.

"Jie Jie Jie! Your Excellency Saint Will, don't be so anxious, the next good show is about to start, although some of my sacrifices were killed by a bastard who came out of nowhere, but this is enough."

Originally, according to the plan of the high priest of the Nest of Flesh Sect, the sacrifice should be at dusk when light and darkness alternate, and that is the most suitable time for sacrifice.

Sacrifice can also exert the greatest sacrificial effect.

But it's a pity that the plan couldn't keep up with the changes, and was destroyed by a lunatic who came out of nowhere, and dropped two elemental fission bombs in Rome in a frenzy.

Made! It's just crazy.

Under everyone's horrified eyes, the giant palm of flesh and blood finally began to change, and the river of blood that gathered all the sacrifices in the neutral block of Rome suddenly rose into the sky.

Seeing this scene, Richelieu, who was located in the underground base of the Holy See, stepped out directly, and the tearing space appeared near the Blood River.

A white light flashed in his hand, and a sword body was translucent, appearing in Richelieu's hand like a cross-shaped symmetrical long sword forged from bright crystal.

The hilt is golden, and eight small and exquisite milky white gemstones are inlaid on the head of the sword, exuding a faint glow.

The moment the sword appeared, the smell of blood in the air instantly weakened a lot.

"Holy Sword Durandal!"

"I didn't expect that Miss Richelieu, the most legendary archbishop in red in history, would show up. I'm really honored!"

Swinburne sighed pretentiously.

"It's Master Richelieu, we are saved!"

"Master Richelieu has brought the holy sword Durandal to save us."

………………………

Suddenly bursts of violent cheers erupted among the believers in Rome.

Richelieu didn't talk nonsense. With a flick of his wrist and a flash of sword light, Durandal split the blood river into two in an instant with just an ordinary sword, and even cut a gap in the space.

"Hey! Once the sacrificial ceremony starts, it cannot be interrupted. Although Durandal has the ability to cut through space, it is impossible to destroy this river of blood."

"This is the knowledge and power from the Great Mother Goddess, a power that you believers in false gods will never be able to match..."

Swinburne fanatically preached the greatness of the Fallen Brood in mid-air, but this was very uncomfortable for the Holy See, and it could be said to be slapping them in the face.

Every clergyman showed an expression of extreme anger, wishing to send the leader of the cult to the stake.

This is Rome, the eternal city. No cultist has ever dared to spread the thoughts of evil gods so unscrupulously.

Before he finished speaking, the river of blood that had been broken into two pieces gathered together again, and moved slowly towards the giant palm of flesh and blood in the air.

This time it turned into eight sword lights, dividing the blood river into eight sections, but it still didn't work. Even the space crack seemed to ignore the blood river, allowing the blood river to pass by nearby.

Richelieu frowned, and after two trials, she could see that the river of blood had become a conceptual power to some extent after passing through the sacrificial circle.

This is a competition purely in the power of laws, and the existence of the blood river fundamentally comes from the power of the fallen brood, which comes from a power of laws that is at least at the level of a true god.

With her ability to comprehend the law in the current demigod state, it is not enough to destroy this blood river.

If Durandal could recover the power of the heyday, it would not be difficult to conceptually destroy this river of blood, but it has only been a few decades since the spiritual energy has truly recovered, and the damage Durandal suffered in the last era has not had time to recover at all.

If you can't solve the trouble, then solve the troublemaker.

Richelieu's eyes froze, and he sent a secret voice transmission to St. Will, and the two figures moved, one in front of the other, appearing in front of and behind Swinburne.

Richelieu urged Durandal with all his strength, and the legendary holy sword suddenly burst into a burst of warm light, hanging in the sky like a small sun.

This holy sword symbolizes all the good and kind qualities of human beings. Its previous owner was the first and last paladin in history—Roland.

After Roland, Richelieu was the second master who picked up Durandal again and was recognized by this holy sword.

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(PS: New book asking for collection, asking for flowers, asking for evaluation, asking for monthly pass, I am very grateful for the new book)

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