The dark red vines seemed to have been infected by Meng Hao’s fury. They whipped about wildly, creating a buzzing noise. Dust rose from the ground like a fog, obscuring Meng Hao’s figure.
His black scholar’s robe now looked a bit faded. Long hair whipped around him, and killing intent, fueled by his intense anger, rose to the heavens. This killing aura was poles apart from Meng Hao’s usual disposition.