The bombardment finally stopped after lasting for more than six minutes.
Thick smoke billowed and dispersed in all directions, and even from this distance, Wang Hao could smell the scent of gunpowder.
Wang Hao reinforced his vision with spiritual power, peering through the dense smoke, fixated on the golden bell.
Now was the perfect opportunity.
If nothing unexpected happened, Flame Man would definitely seize this chance to snatch it.
Just then, a flute sound arose.
In an instant, a fierce wind rolled in, sweeping away all the smoke with a tornado.
Short Flute Man had made his move.
He seemed to have not been affected much.
At this moment, Wang Hao could clearly see everything on the ground.
It could almost be described as unbearable to look at.
The ground had turned into scorched earth, cement, and stone sculptures, all blasted into pieces.
The monsters attracted by the flute sound were also blasted into pulp, and the surrounding trees had turned to ashes.
