The Heavenly Thunder pierced through the air, striking straight at the Mountain Lord, its speed beyond imagination—utterly impossible to dodge.
And worse, the Mountain Lord, now without a physical body, was moving around in an artificial construct, innately sinister, basically like a walking lightning rod—not a chance in hell to avoid it.
The thunderbolt branched out like tree limbs, veering just twice before landing squarely on top of the Mountain Lord's head.
The Mountain Lord's face was as dark as water, one hand waving the plaque, holding it above his head.
The falling thunder smashed straight into the plaque, like sparks from hammered steel; for a moment, countless stars burst forth, flickering in the night, each arc of lightning blossoming, electricity rippling and spreading ceaselessly across the plaque's surface.
Divine light surged atop the plaque, as if the dormant power within was being forcefully triggered.
