At the same time, the two other men and the woman, their eyes glittering, attacked. Two flying swords and a jade bracelet transformed into beams of light which shot straight toward Meng Hao. The woman’s jade bracelet let out a buzzing sound as it flew through the air, expanding in size as it prepared to smash him.
Meng Hao frowned. He hadn’t been in a good mood before, having been frustrated to the extreme by the black aura. At the moment, these people had arisen a strong killing spirit within him. He let out a cold snort.
His right hand lifted up, and a roaring Flame Python appeared, twenty or thirty meters long. It shot toward the four incoming magical items, radiating blistering heat.
A boom shook the air. The jade bracelet shattered and the two flying swords melted away. The skull dissipated because of the collision. The Flame Python let out a wail and then vanished.
“Eighth level of Qi Condensation!” said the woman. The two men next to her gasped, their expressions intent. The Cultivator surnamed Yan took a step forward, staring at Meng Hao.
“I am Yan Ziguo, disciple of the Cold Wind Sect,” he said coolly, his eyes flashing like lightning. “Fellow Daoist, you don’t need to be in such a hurry to leave. Could you please explain the thick death aura emanating from your body?” Meng Hao was at the eighth level of Qi Condensation, but so was Yan Ziguo, so he spoke in a voice as cold as ever.
Meng Hao returned his cold stare, and didn’t say anything. He slapped his bag of holding, and in a flash, the treasured fan appeared. He shot away at high speed. Yan Ziguo looked at the fan in astonishment.
“A magic item which grants flight. He’s not of the Foundation Establishment stage, so he can only glide. He’ll be back on the ground shortly.” Yan Ziguo’s heart began to beat faster. The fan was a magical item that only disciples of the ninth level of Qi Condensation might get within his sect. With a cold harrumph, he charged off in pursuit. The other three hesitated for a moment, then followed him.
“Dammit!” said Meng Hao, his eyes growing even colder. His opponent had seen the power of his Cultivation base, as well as his use of magic, both of which were clearly warnings. And yet he still pursued. Meng Hao felt extremely annoyed.
His hand moved in incantation patterns, and then he pointed back at the four pursuers. Instantly, four beams of light shot out, four of the feathers from the fan. They cut through the air like flying swords, heading straight for the four people behind him.
Yan Ziguo narrowed his eyes and smacked his bag of holding. A small wooden shield appeared, about the size of his palm. It quickly expanded to the size of a head as it flew forward to meet the feather. A violent boom sounded out as they slammed into each other.
As for the other three, looks of shock appeared on their faces and they scrambled to produce magical items. Amidst the ensuing explosions, they spat blood out from their mouths and retreated, looking terrified.
Those three feathers weren’t damaged at all. Meng Hao waved his finger, and they shot back toward Yan Ziguo.