He ripped the Cores out of Cultivators and ate them raw! He massacred, leaving no survivors! His methods were cruel and vicious!
It wasn’t clear how such rumors had begun to spread about Meng Hao. He actually hadn’t killed very many people in the past few days; most of the deaths were caused by his hundreds of followers.
In any case, as soon as Meng Hao’s words fell upon the ears of the three men on the peak of the mountain, the old man with the highest Cultivation base, the one with the seven-colored robe, shot to his feet. A smile covered his face as he clasped hands and bowed.
“Greetings, Patriarch Golden Light. We will definitely not interfere in the matter between you two.” Having said that, he stamped his foot down, causing a glowing shield to rise up around the mountain. Big-head had absolutely no chance to enter.
Big-head let out a plaintive wail. He spit out some more blood to activate his secret technique and speed away. He was now emaciated and frail, which made his big head even more conspicuous. He flew along in the air, so weak he could barely even form a fist, his head drooping down.
Grief and indignation filled his face as he charged onward.
Two days passed. Big-head’s indignation continued to grow. No matter where he went, his friends all began to use their magic to block his way. It was like he had turned into some sort of plague.
In fact, there was one power group who had been slow in employing their spell formation. When he slipped in to beg for help, his friend had flipped out and attacked him. Apparently the man had been afraid of causing a misunderstanding with Patriarch Golden Light.
Big-head was now completely without hope. He floated in mid-air looking around in all directions. Unfortunately, there was no one he could turn to for help. He was out of power, and could flee no more. Face ashen, he turned and looked at the approaching Meng Hao.
After the space of about ten breaths, Meng Hao came to stop in front of him. “Done running?” he asked coolly.