It is only in that fine divide between life and death that battle prowess can be elevated. In addition, it was during this time that Meng Hao continued along on his path of enlightenment regarding the Violet Rain. Although his progress was slow, he was gradually getting more and more results.
Because the violet rain cut off the spiritual energy of Heaven and Earth, Meng Hao’s superiority grew even more obvious. That was why it was so easy for him to slaughter a late Nascent Soul stage Cultivator.
The thinning of the spiritual energy actually allowed Meng Hao to gradually increase his own power.
Meng Hao currently stood at the prow of the magical flying ship. His face was pale, and his body somewhat thin. The years of campaigning had truly changed him. He looked off into the distance and then sighed, “The day when there is no spiritual energy left at all in the Western Desert, is the day when I will truly make my rise.”
During the half-year period, three other momentous events occurred. Three Demon Spirits appeared in the great lands of the Western Desert. It instantly drew the attention of various tribes, and resulted in plundering and fighting.
Meng Hao was well aware of what happened when a Demon Spirit suddenly appeared; that was exactly what had led to his two serious injuries along the campaign trail.
However, these other Demon Spirits relieved some of the pressure placed on Meng Hao and the Crow Divinity Tribe. No longer were they being attacked from all sides. They only continued to grow stronger and stronger.
Meanwhile, about half a month’s journey up ahead of Meng Hao, three black flying machines that looked like swords were shooting through the air.
They were pitch black, and emanated pulsing, cold auras. Each of these sword-shaped magical ships were several thousands meters long, and were covered with black-robed Cultivators, all seated cross-legged.
Their faces were expressionless and their eyes closed as they sat in meditation. Occasionally, some of them would open their eyes, and a bright flashing could be seen.
Shockingly, these Cultivators’ totem tattoos were all swords!
Huge black flying swords and totem tattoos depicting weapons were not things frequently seen in the Western Desert. In fact, in all of the great lands of the Western Desert, there was only one tribe had had black sword totems…. This Tribe was obviously the great Cloud Sky Tribe.
They had a Spirit Severing Patriarch, and were the most powerful Tribe in the Western Desert Central region. The Five Poisons Tribe had acquired the opportunity to become an auxiliary branch of this Tribe, but before the emissary could even reach them, they had been wiped out by the Crow Divinity Tribe.
Of the three black sword magical items, one flew in the lead position. Sitting cross-legged at the very tip of the sword was an old man. Unlike the other Tribe members, his robe was white. He had the bearing of a transcendent being, and proud expression covered his face. Sitting on either side of him were two middle-aged men who wore cautious, obsequious smiles on their faces.
“How much longer?” asked the transcendent-looking, white-robed old man, his voice cool. In both his facial expression and temperament, this man manifested an aloof proudness. It was as if years of being in a position similar to royalty had ingrained itself onto his very personality.