The image of Meng Hao in this moment was indelibly branded onto the eyes of everyone who was watching.
At the moment, the ten or more Nascent Soul Cultivators, still suppressed into Core Formation, approached Meng Hao. They outnumbered him, and their Cultivation bases were inherently greater than his by far. So they still closed in, each and every one preparing to attack.
It was as if each feared that they would not personally be able to exterminate him, and would thus incur trouble within their Clans.
Their killing intent billowed up to the heavens as they whistled through the air. No one was there to help Meng Hao. In this moment, he was completely alone; the only person who could help him, was he himself. The only person he could rely on, was himself!
Meng Hao’s laughter was filled with insanity. It echoed through the air, and as it did, he waved his right hand in front of him.
“Without a face!”
Heaven and Earth shook, and the enormous face once again appeared around Meng Hao. It was larger than before, and even more substantial than before. It did not seem illusory in any way now, but real.
The face towered up, blood flowing from its eyes. The sight was startling and shocking. Like a mad devil, it shot roaring toward the dozen or so incoming Nascent Soul Cultivators.