The black Devil Spear mist roiled and churned. Intense, bloodcurdling screams could be heard for a few moments. Suddenly, seven or eight figures shot out from inside. Even as they did, Meng Hao waved his hand, causing them to scream and then explode into pieces.
The surrounding Violet Sea surged up with huge waves that submerged the outpost. The black mist shrank down to surround the Golden Crow Tribe members and bring them to Meng Hao.
There were only eight Tribe members who were still alive. As Meng Hao treated their injuries, his killing intent grew even more intense.
He turned, returning to stand on the mastiff’s head. A great wave rose up in the Violet Sea to take the Golden Crow Tribe members as they headed toward the last of the outposts.
Almost in the same moment in which Meng Hao headed off, a black beam suddenly appeared near the Black Lands. It employed speed that far exceeded the Nascent Soul stage, even employed greater teleportation as it moved.
Within the black beam was a man wearing a black robe. This was apparently nothing more that Patriarch Huyan’s clone!
His face was grim, and he did not speak. His body flickered as he teleported, growing ever nearer to the tenth outpost.
“Qing’er,” he murmured, “today, father will achieve only half of the vengeance you deserve. Soon, I will find the person who actually killed you, and that person will die the most cruel death imaginable.
“Qing’er, no one in the world is qualified to kill you. Only me… Only I have that right.” His eyes were filled with kindness. For some reason, however, the kindness was bizarre. Anyone who saw it would feel cold, and their hair would stand on end in terror.