The vines wrapped around his arms had been viciously writhing forward with open mouths ready to devour; but suddenly they began to emit miserable shrieks. They quivered, and before they were even thirty meters from Meng Hao, had collapsed into blood.
The blood transformed into a shield which surrounded the violet-robed young man. All of this takes some time to describe, but happened in time it takes for a spark to fly off of a piece of flint.