“Six breaths.” Meng Hao’s hand flickered in an incantation, and the sword auras from the two wooden swords spilled out. The remaining two Cultivators of the eight level of Qi Condensation tried to defend with magical items as the swords shot forward. Horrified screams rang out as their hearts were stabbed through. Their bodies fell to the ground.
Now, only two Cultivators remained, both of the ninth level of Qi Condensation. Their faces pale, they had already begun to edge backwards. When Meng Hao’s cold gaze fell upon them, they scattered, each one running off in a different direction.
With a cold look on his face, Meng Hao raised his right hand, which flickered with an incantation. A massive Wind Blade appeared, fifteen or twenty meters long. It sped forth with a shrill whistling sound. At the same time, Meng Hao slapped his bag of holding. The black bow appeared in his hand. He drew back on the bow, and then shot an arrow toward the other person.
“Eight breaths,” said Meng Hao softly. Two booming sounds rang out. The Wind Blade slashed through the first ninth-level Cultivator, splitting his body in two and sending blood and gore splattering everywhere.
Simultaneously, a black arrow pierced the other Cultivator’s head, causing it to explode violently.
Eight breaths, eight kills!