When the wooden sword connected with the arrow, it began to emit a droning sound. It was pushed back by the force of the arrow and smacked into Meng Hao’s forehead. Blood sprayed from his mouth, as he was sent spinning backward. As for the arrow, its power was spent, and it transformed into ash, which drifted away in the wind.
As Meng Hao flew backwards, he slapped his bag of holding, and produced a Demonic Core, which he swallowed. He was running low on Earthly Spirit Pills, so he opted for the Demonic Core. His eyes were shot with blood, and his injuries were severe. This was perhaps the worst he had been hurt since becoming a Cultivator.
Thankfully, the wooden sword was truly a treasured item and hadn’t been damaged at all. Actually, the reason Meng Hao had been sent flying back was because his Cultivation base wasn’t high enough to completely control the sword. If it were, the arrow wouldn’t have even been able to make the wooden sword move back an inch.
Meng Hao’s body was wracked in pain, and his mind a bit clouded. But his innate desire to survive still existed. He bit his tongue, and used the pain to focus. He lifted his pale, bloodless face and looked off into the distance. Currently approaching was a young man in a white robe, flying on an enormous green leaf.
His face was calm, and his eyes cold, without a trace of arrogance. However, a single look at him would leave anyone without doubt that he was superior to others.
His Cultivation base was at the ninth level of Qi Condensation, and yet he appeared to be only twenty-two or twenty-three years old. Seeing him approach, Liu Daoyun, who was also at the ninth level of Qi Condensation, narrowed his eyes.
He instantly understood. “At his age… he must be a Chosen from a great Sect,” he said to himself.
“White robes….” Meng Hao wiped the blood from his mouth, staring at the white-robed youth.