However… despite that, he was still not a match for his opponent. His body was on the verge of collapse, like an oil lamp with no oil left in it. Beneath the mask, his face was pale and covered with wrinkles. And yet, his eyes burned with frenzy, and emitted a violet glow.
Again, he burned his longevity to heal himself.
He looked at the dozen or so incoming Cultivators, and then suddenly lifted his head to the sky and laughed. His expression contained unyielding pride, the kind of obstinacy which indicated that he would never bow his head.
He was Grandmaster Pill Cauldron! He was the Ninth Demon Sealer! He was Fang Mu! He… was Meng Hao!
He was born a scholar, but today, he was a Cultivator of the Core Formation stage. He was fighting against a dozen or more experts with Nascent Soul Cultivation bases. They were suppressed, and because of the blood-colored mask he was almost inhuman. But when you consider the Southern Domain as a whole, for the past thousands of years, he was the only person who could possibly do this!
Therefore, Meng Hao laughed. It was a laughter of no regrets, a laughter filled with lofty sentiment, a laughter filled with stubbornness that soared to the heavens!
Damaging his life force to heal himself, his face beneath the mask rapidly aged. His hair had long since grown completely white. However, from the perspective of an outsider, beneath the crimson glow, his hair was bright red!
Such an image immediately burned a deep impression into everyone who was watching. As all of the Chosen of the Southern Domain teleported out from the crumbling mental realm, the first thing they saw was Meng Hao. The image was branded into their minds, something that they would never forget for a hundred years, for a thousand, for their entire lives!
At this moment, he was like the sun burning in the noon sky, the representative of a generation. Never again would someone like him appear. Never would someone be able to outmatch Meng Hao.
This was what each and every one of them was thinking.
Chosen? Dao Child? Wearing his mask, his crimson hair fluttering, facing up against more than ten Nascent Soul Cultivators and laughing…. The rest of them were like insects!
“Now that… is a Cultivator!” It was hard to say who muttered the words first, but it only took a moment for them to resonate throughout the minds of all the Chosen.