The sight caused Big-head’s scalp to go numb and his face to turn pale white. He began to quiver. He had been preparing to say some grand words just now, but now he could only swallow with a gulp. The hand that had been moving toward his forehead fell to his side. The pride in his eyes had been replaced by hopelessness.
He suddenly realized that even if he managed to deliver a deadly blow to himself, he was a Cultivator. In the moments after his death, there were a variety of methods that could be used to extract his soul.
He could attempt to self detonate, but seeing how adept Meng Hao was with inflicting torment, Big-head could see that dying was not necessarily a way of escaping.
He didn’t fear death, but what he did fear, was living a life worse than death.
Meng Hao was currently ignoring Big-head, and was instead focusing completely on the lightning, as well as the Li Clan Patriarch’s soul.
What he noticed was that even as the soul embodiment was on the verge of collapsing, sparking remnants of the lightning were fusing into the soul. Thanks to the healing provided by Meng Hao’s life force, the recovery of the Li Clan Patriarch’s soul embodiment resulted in much more lightning residing within him.
“Refine a Soul of Lightning, huh…? It seems it requires a bit of a sacrifice to refine such a thing!” Meng Hao’s eyes glittered as he looked around for more lightning. After enough time passed for half an incense stick to burn, a final bolt of lightning appeared. After the Li Clan Patriarch absorbed it, Meng Hao put him back into the blood-colored mask. He cursed Meng Hao vigorously the entire time. 1