Outside the Immortal’s cave, Patriarch Rubicund, Patriarch Pockmarks, and all the others approached, faces filled with murder. They saw Meng Hao disappear into the short mountain, the detestable parrot flying around squawking, and the group of Cultivators running in circles around the mountain.
All of it caused them to gape in shock for a moment, and then begin laughing uproariously. As more people arrived, they too looked at the Cultivators running in circles, and laughed out loud.
“What are these people doing? Have they gone insane?!”
“Are they jogging for exercise?”
“What kind of Cultivators are they? They’re really losing face for the Black Lands!”
The sneering ridicule of the Cultivators who had been pursuing Meng Hao caused embarrassed looks to appear on the faces of the Cultivators on the ground. However, they didn’t dare to stop running. This was the only Celestial magic that the parrot had taught them, which drew its power from people running.
According to what the parrot said, this technique was incredibly, unbelievably amazing. It was supposedly the ultimate spell formation in all Heaven and Earth.
“Come come,” cried the parrot excitedly as it soared through the air. “Everyone put your voices together….”
The more than one hundred local Cultivators hesitated for a moment. However, nearly a year of practicing had created a virtual instinct. As soon as one person cried it out, everyone joined together to shout.
“Have faith in the Lord Fifth, gain eternal life! When the Lord Fifth appears, who dares to cause strife!”
Their voices joined together and echoed out in powerful waves. As the sound rose up, so did a wind. It was hard to tell whether the wind was started because of the running, or because of their shouting.
In any case, the wind caused the area fifty kilometers around the Immortal’s cave to suddenly become blurry. The blurriness was faint, so faint, in fact, that no one noticed it all, not even Patriarch Rubicund, who was of the late Core Formation stage, or the others of similar level.
“Kill everyone!” cried Patriarch Pockmarks. “Don’t even leave a blade of grass left alive!” His words floated through the air lightly, but were filled with shocking killing intent. As they rang out, the Han River Sect disciples behind him, as well as many of the other random Cultivators, transformed into prismatic beams. They shot forward, their faces twisted viciously, their killing intent billowing. It was with ultimate derision that they prepared to vent their venomous hatred of Meng Hao.