The Blood Qi seemed to grow thicker, but he couldn’t see clearly what was happening. He frowned and harrumphed. He lifted his right hand, and a Globe of blood appeared, about the size of a human head. Blood Qi swirled around inside. With the flick of a sleeve, he sent the Blood Globe shooting down Mount Daqing, where it slammed through the blood-colored spell with a reverberating boom.
The blood-colored spell was growing weak. Suddenly, a shrill scream could be heard, echoing out from within the spell. Difficult to describe, it seemed to be filled with pain.
Moments later, another scream rang out. This scream clearly came from someone else, but it was equally blood-curdling. Shangguan Xiu frowned. Looking down at the blood-colored spell, it appeared to have shrunk by almost half and was somewhat murky.
A third person screamed, then a fourth, almost at the same time. More screams echoed out, over and over, until finally the blood-colored spell was completely translucent. Shangguan Xiu looked down to see… a dozen headless corpses.
His eyes narrowed, and his body spun. There, on a small mountain path, wearing a blue scholar’s robe, was Meng Hao. He was spattered with blood and gore, and despite looking somewhat frail and weak, walked slowly up the mountain, his face expressionless.
In his hands, he carried a dozen severed heads. Shangguan Xiu looked at him as he approached. Meng Hao tossed the heads forward, and they plopped to the ground in front of Shangguan Xiu, who then flicked his sleeve, sending them scattering about.
“Your turn,” said Meng Hao, his voice hoarse. He usually didn’t want to kill, but today. He did.