One of the strange properties of this rope was that when it was pulled, it began to emit massive amounts of intense coldness, as well as a rotten smell. The glittering restrictive spell trembled, as if it might collapse at any moment.
Time passed. The seven men outside heaved on the rope, gradually pulling out fifteen meters. The roaring grew more intense, and even more coldness poured out. The rotten smell grew many times thicker and stronger.
Soon… a panting sound could be heard in the cave. It sounded as if some living thing were in the midst of some sort of struggle. A figure appeared, screaming shrilly. It launched itself at the shining restrictive spell.
The spell shook, and cracks appeared on its edges.
It was at this moment that Meng Hao’s eyes became fully clear. He shook himself and took in a deep breath. A gleam appeared in his eyes as he became aware of what was happening in the ancient cave. He saw the rope moving, as well as the rapidly collapsing restrictive spell.
There was no time to think. He clasped his hands and bowed toward the corpse. Then, carrying his mist with him, shot back toward the cave entrance. Before he could move even thirty meters, the shining restrictive spell shattered. Ten emaciated phantoms shot out, followed by the eight white-haired old men. All of them aimed directly for Meng Hao, screaming as they approached.
Behind them, thin streams of blackness floated up out of the deep hole. They looked like hair. The panting sound from within the hole became clearer.
Something inside was struggling fiercely, as if it desired nothing more than to burst out of the hole.
Meng Hao’s face was pale but his eyes shined brightly. His Dao Pillar began to rotate, sending the power of Foundation Establishment coursing throughout his body. He dashed forward several dozens of meters. Unfortunately, the emaciated, child-like phantoms behind him were even faster. Over and over again, they crashed into Meng Hao’s lightning mist.
Booms echoed out as the lightning mist rapidly began to deteriorate. The child-like phantoms didn’t seem to feel any pain. Every time they were knocked away by lightning bolts, they immediately charged back again. Everywhere Meng Hao looked, spirits charged toward him.
Sword auras shined out brightly as the wooden swords circled around him. Feathers spun, causing a wind to blow out. Meng Hao moved onward as quickly as possible.
That was when the eight white-haired men drew close. At the same time, several of the child-like spirit phantoms appeared in front of him, blocking his path. Meng Hao felt a profound sense of danger. Without hesitation, he slapped his bag of holding. A hundred flying swords appeared, forming into a sword rain which charged forth.