The arrow thundered toward the wooden sword. When they met, an explosion rang out and the arrow collapsed. The wooden sword shuddered.
Meng Hao was expressionless. He lifted his finger again, and the wooden sword sped forward again. Ding Xin, his face pale, had no choice but to shoot another arrow.
A boom rang out. The wooden sword continued on.
Veins of blood filled Ding Xin’s eyes. Could he not see that Meng Hao was exacting his revenge, intending to drain his Cultivation base and push him to complete exhaustion?
After dropping from the ninth level of Qi Condensation, his injuries had worsened. He was weak, but he feared the wooden sword, so he could do nothing else but use his arrows to defend himself. Unfortunately, because of his weakened state, his arrows were also weak, and did not carry the power that they did before. When he shot out his sixth arrow, his body suddenly quivered as his Cultivation base suddenly began to drop from the eighth level of Qi Condensation to the seventh.
The wooden sword was upon him in an instant, stabbing into his chest. It wasn’t a critical wound, but blood surged out nonetheless. Ding Yen let out a miserable cry and tried to flee faster.
His body shook as he felt even more spiritual power flowing out of him. His tottering Cultivation base fell rapidly, from the eighth level of Qi Condensation to the seventh!
Of course, his Cultivation base wasn’t actually regressing. But he was losing spiritual energy at a rapid rate, and without any recovery. The spiritual energy loss was so great that his level of power was essentially at the seventh level of Qi Condensation.
He was consuming medicinal pills, but unfortunately had two sword wounds, both of which were leaking spiritual energy. There was no way for him to recover at the moment.
“I’m a Violet Fate Inner Sect disciple!” cried Ding Xin with a fierce howl. “If you dare to kill me, the Violet Fate Sect will track you down even if it takes a hundred years! They won’t stop until you’re dead!” His situation was desperate. He let out another blood-curdling scream as Meng Hao’s wooden sword passed by. It didn’t stab him, but cut him, whereupon his spiritual energy drained even faster.
“I’ve already died once,” said Meng Hao coolly. His eyes were cold as he waved his finger once more.
Time passed. An hour went by in the blink of an eye, during which time Ding Xin’s miserable cries continued to ring out. His body was numb, and appeared to be covered with hundreds of sword wounds. He was soaked in blood. None of his wounds were critical, but he dripped with so much blood that he looked like a dead person.
Ding Xin was a Cultivator, and as things grew dim, what frightened him the most was not his wounds, but rather, the fact that his body had seemed to become like a sieve. Spiritual energy poured out of him at a shocking rate.
The sixth level of Qi condensation, the fifth, the fourth…
…
A bang rang out, and Ding Xin fell onto the ground, spitting up blood. He scrambled forward, fleeing as fast as he could move. He was no longer capable of any sort of flight. His Cultivation base had dropped so low that it was the same as if he were at the third level of Qi Condensation.
“Meng Hao, if you kill me, you will be slaughtered without a proper burial! I’m a Violet Fate Inner Sect disciple. If I die, it will cause problems for the entire State of Zhao. You don’t dare to kill me!” His body trembled. He fought back the dread in his heart and coughed up more blood.
Meng Hao snatched up Ding Xin’s giant flying leaf. Without a word, he moved his finger again, and the wooden sword shot toward Ding Xin.
Enough time passed for an incense stick to burn. There in the middle of the woods, Ding Xin no longer resembled a disciple of a great Sect. He stared at Meng Hao, his eyes filled with venom. And yet within that venom was also regret. He regretted his desire to watch his opponent consume Demonic Cores. Instead, he should have held nothing back and killed him immediately.
“I should have butchered you!” he said, gnashing his teeth, chest heaving. It seemed he was more interested in venting his anger than breathing.
“You know, you taught me something,” said Meng Hao. He was done with his revenge. His hand lifted, and the sword fell. Ding Xin’s head flew into the air, showering blood everywhere. It landed off in the distance, rolling across the ground to rest underneath a large tree.
His eyes were still filled with disbelief. He couldn’t believe it, because he was a disciple of the Violet Fate Sect, at the ninth level of Qi Condensation. He was a Chosen, he was to reach Foundation Establishment, whereupon he would be a true Chosen, and his name would rock the Southern Domain.
But here he was, dead in the backwater State of Zhao, killed by Meng Hao, an insect he had held in the palm of his hand.
Meng Hao closed his eyes for a long time. This was not the first time he had killed someone, and this time, he was not filled with emotions