When I call your name, you must come,” said Meng Hao slowly. Then he walked forward, his body whistling in the wind and emanating an ice-cold air.
“Wang Youcai isn’t dead,” blurted Little Tiger. Meng Hao ignored him as he raced forward.
Little Tiger watched him disappear, then sighed and sat down silently to meditate. He had looked into Meng Hao in addition to Shangguan Xiu. He knew that Meng Hao had no immediate family in Yunjie County and that Shangguan Xiu was most likely using this blood magic specifically to draw him out.
“Elder Brother Meng, I just want to save my father and mother. If you live through this, then I will owe you a great debt.” He looked up, complex emotions flickering in his eyes.
Meng Hao shot forward, straight toward the blood-red aura. Little Tiger, though young, was clever and had been correct in his suppositions. As for Meng Hao, he had always been intelligent. Despite failing as a scholar, he had undergone a baptism of sorts in the Reliance Sect. After everything he had experienced there and after, how could he not see through to his opponent’s true purpose?
Shangguan Xiu had set a trap for him. But how could he not go? Even though he had no immediate family in Yunjie County, it was his home. His childhood memories were there, and they were beautiful.
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.
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 fi