“You’re an alchemist from the Southern Domain’s Violet Fate Sect,” he said, retreating backward. “I never imagined that you would have a Cultivation base such as this. Sir, I was rash just now. I’ll take my leave.” A third totem appeared on his left arm, but it appeared to be only half completed, not a full totem. The Cultivator’s body began to grow blurry, as if he would disappear into the air.
“A bit rash?” said Meng Hao, his eyes glittering with killing intent. If he hadn’t dodged at just the right time, he would have been beheaded. Even as the words left his mouth, he shot forward.
“You Southern Domain Cultivators really don’t know when to give up!” said the Western Desert Cultivator with a cold snort. “It’s obvious that we’re both in the Pseudo Core stage. You used full power just now! Clearly we’re an even match!” Ferocity suddenly filled his face.
His expression had changed because as Meng Hao advanced, he began to rotate his Cultivation base, causing power to explode out. This power was even greater than that from before, causing everything in the area to shake.
Meng Hao lifted up his right hand and extended three fingers!
A shocking three fingered Blood Palm appeared. It transformed into a murderous Blood Qi which shot toward the Western Desert Cultivator.
“Live through this three finger strike and you can leave!”
The face of the Western Desert Cultivator flickered, filling with astonishment. The blurriness surrounding his body instantly disappeared; he couldn’t possibly maintain his invisibility. He lifted his hand and tapped his forehead; the three-headed flood dragon totem, as well as the blood-colored fist totem, both appeared and shot forward.
Meng Hao’s three-fingered blood palm slammed into them.
The resulting massive boom echoed out in all directions. The Western Desert Cultivator let out a blood-curdling scream. His body shook as the fist totem shattered. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the three-headed flood dragon totem disintegrated. He retreated backward several paces, his face pale. Before he could say a single word, a single Blood Finger slammed into his forehead.
A tremor ran through his body, and he toppled to the ground, dead.
Meng Hao approached. He looked down at the dead Western Desert Cultivator, whose name he didn’t even know. He knelt down next to the body and fished out a bag of holding. His eyes shone with thoughtfulness.
“So, it seems I’m not alone in this place…. These Western Desert Cultivators have some strange techniques. They’re as different from those of the Southern Domain as black is from white…. If not, a single Blood Finger would have been sufficient to slay a Pseudo Core Cultivator.” Giving a final glance to the Western Desert Cultivator, he noticed that the totem on the man’s arms were fading and transforming into black ink.