Shangguan Xiu was utterly devoid of conscience, and his actions offended Meng Hao to the bone. His desire to kill billowed to untold heights.
Even though he was risking death, even though he was playing into Shangguan Xiu’s hand, Meng Hao knew that in life, there are some things a man must do…. even if it was dangerous, he would go anyway.
Fear and doubt were not for true men.
His murderous intent had never been so strong, his desire to kill never so intense. It could not be dispelled by the death of one person, but rather every person involved in maintaining the blood spell.
“In my years of Cultivation, there are people who I haven’t killed. It’s not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to.” His speed increased, his eyes flashing with death, but his heart calm. By now he had reached the area of the blood spell. He shot toward a Cultivator of the sixth level of Qi Condensation who sat there meditating.
He wore black robes and looked to be about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. As Meng Hao rushed toward him, he opened his eyes. Shocked, he lifted his hand, but in that instant, Meng Hao, his face expression cold and filled with death, shot past him.
There was a sword in Meng Hao’s hand. Behind him, a head flew up into the air, its face filled with confusion. The body fell over onto the ground.
The reek of blood filled the air. The corpse twitched a few times and then was still.
There was no shout of pain, no struggle. To Meng Hao, it was as simple as slaughtering a chicken. As he had said, it was not that he couldn’t kill, he just didn’t like to.
“When you try to cut off a chicken’s head,” said Meng Hao to himself, “it will usually put up a bit of a struggle. People usually struggle even harder. But without a head, you don’t even match up to a chicken.” Not even glancing back at the corpse behind him, he moved on, eyes filled with killing intent.
He moved quickly, and before long, another cross-legged figure appeared in front of him. This person had clearly not sensed the death of his compatriot; he sat there meditating, maintaining the spell.
He didn’t even have a chance to open his eyes before his head flew off his body.
“Shangguan Xiu, you force me into killing. Very well… today I will kill everything in front of me.” He flicked the wooden sword in his hand, sending droplets of blood flying about everywhere, then vanished.
Because of the death of the two Cultivators, ripples had appeared in the red-colored spell. This in turn shocked the rest of people who were maintaining it; one after another, they opened their eyes and stood up, glancing around cautiously.
Meanwhile, atop the mountain, Shangguan Xiu’s eyes flickered open. They glittered as he looked down at what was going on below.