Meanwhile, Meng Hao hovered there in mid-air, looking out over the scene. His eyes glittering, he waved his right hand, causing the three Spirit Extermination Spikes to appear. He sent his Divine Sense into the spikes, then, borrowing the power of the Mastiff, wiped the brands off of them and replaced them with his own.
“What you did to the Golden Crow Tribe,” he said coolly. “Meng Hao will do to you. It’s only fair.” With that, he tossed one of the black spikes out into the air, where it rapidly increased in size. Roaring could be heard as Meng Hao waved his hand, causing the spike to be stabbed half-way down into the ground.
Instantly, a black field of light sprang up to envelop the Heavenly Pursuit Tribe.
Next, a second spike flew out in a different direction to then stab down into the ground. The black field of light grew stronger, and the members of the Heavenly Pursuit Tribe began to tremble and whither.
A third spike stabbed down. The Spirit Extermination Spike spell formation having been fully activated, all of the Heavenly Pursuit Tribe members were now in the same position the Golden Crow Tribe members had been. Their flesh withered, and their life force drained away at a rapid pace.
They stood there shaking, expressions of despair appeared on their faces as they looked toward the High Priest. In turn, the High Priest looked up into the sky. As his body wasted away, his voice once again raised out, filled with hopelessness.
“Patriarch… save your people….
“Patriarch, why haven’t you come…? Have you forsaken us…?”
Meng Hao looked at the spectacle from up above, but said nothing. He looked off into the distance, a thoughtful expression on his face.
The surrounding Golden Crow Tribe members watched on silently. They were not inherently fond of killing, but when they saw the hopelessness on the faces of the Heavenly Pursuit Tribe Cultivators, they couldn’t help but think of their own situation earlier.
If Meng Hao had not returned, then perhaps they would have begun to cry out just like the Heavenly Pursuit Tribe.
Time passed. Within the black field of light, the life forces of the withering members of the Heavenly Pursuit Tribe were beginning to wink out. They turned into corpses which toppled to the ground. As they died, their life forces were completely absorbed by the spell formation, causing a white cyclone to gradually appear.
As more Tribe members became shriveled corpses, the High Priest continued to waste away. He now looked like a body just climbed up out of a grave, emanating a strong aura of death. Despite that, he continued to gaze up listlessly into the sky. His voice echoed out continuously.
“Patriarch… Did we make a mistake…?
“Patriarch, please respond. Did we err? Why haven’t you come…?”
1,000. 3,000. 5,000. Finally, all 10,000 Tribe members became desiccated corpses and toppled to the ground. Soon, only the Nascent Soul Cultivators and the totemic Sacred Ancients were left. They trembled and cried out helplessly, and the High Priest began to laugh bitterly.