The Blood Clone’s eyes suddenly flickered and seemed to come to life. The look in its eyes suddenly resembled that of Meng Hao’s. “Did you really forget me so quickly?” it said. “Didn’t you say you would chase me to the ends of the earth to kill me?”
Great waves of emotion suddenly flickered across Patriarch Rubicund’s face. Without thinking about it, he backed up, his heart racing.
“It’s him…. But… but how could he be using a puppet like this? Is it a puppet, or… could it be… an Etheric Incarnation?” When his thoughts reached this point, his mind began to spin, and the blood completely drained from his face. The technique to form Etheric Incarnations was not something Core Formation Cultivators could master. It was a divine ability that only Nascent Soul Cultivators could employ!
As the old man began to flee, he suddenly heard the sound of running. A black mist appeared as the fifty or more Cultivators arrived, running together according to the parrot’s spell formation.
“Just who is this guy…?” Patriarch Rubicund’s scalp went numb, and his eyes filled with despair and frenzy.
Meanwhile, in another location and a different direction, Patriarch Pockmarks of the Han River Sect was speaking similar words, his face filled with bitterness.
He was surrounded by a red mist, outside of which were fifty Cultivators running in formation. In front of him was a figure dressed in a red robe, with indistinct facial features. The only thing he could make out were two blood-red eyes.
The eyes seemed to contain no emotions at all; they were completely merciless.