Nothing obstructed its way; it merged into the Thorn Rampart trunk, which then began to tremble.
Instantly, the thorns stabbed into the Holy Snow City Cultivators faded from sight, and their wounds closed up. The thorns actually remained in their bodies, fuel with which to heal their wounds.
As the thorns disappeared, the Black Lands Palace and Western Desert Cultivators outside of the city let out bloodcurdling screams. Their bodies instantly began to wither completely. The sounds of explosions filled the air as some of the dying Cultivators chose to self-detonate.
The explosions caused Meng Hao’s mind to feel as if it were shattering. It seemed as if he had become one with the Thorn Rampart trunk, and that all of the thorns spread about were extensions of his will.
With a mere thought, he could kill everyone.
At the same time, his Spiritual Sense felt as if it were wasting away. Meng Hao’s Spiritual Sense was second only to that of a Nascent Soul Cultivator, far above that of anyone in the same stage as him. Were it not, then the strain would have completely dried it up.
Suddenly, Meng Hao’s will sensed something new. Outside of the city, in a location stabbed through with a handful of thorns, someone spoke in a low voice.
“Grandmaster Meng, is that you?”