In the moment of ultimate crisis, Eyeless Larva spun around him rapidly. The incoming finger attack slammed into it, and, in the resulting boom, Meng Hao tumbled backward several hundred meters, blood spraying from his mouth. He came to a stop and then looked up. His eyes narrowed, and a cold glow erupted out from within them.
At the same, up in the invisible vortex, in the world filled with corpses, the black mist on top of the high altar suddenly began to churn. An anxious, indignant howl suddenly echoed out from it.
As the howling echoed out, the expressions on the countless faces of Cultivators and neo-demons in the mist suddenly changed. They distorted and twisted, as if some unknown force was suppressing the howling within the mist.
Simultaneously, the expression on the face of the black-robed man who stood up ahead from Meng Hao also flickered. He looked up toward the vortex, his eyes flashing. Then he looked back toward Meng Hao, and a strange glow could be seen in his eyes.
It appeared to be a look of disbelief. Even more than disbelief, there was apparently an unprecedented excitement and greed.
At the same time, one of the remaining six Nascent Soul Cultivators up in mid-air, an old man of the mid Nascent Soul stage, having seen Meng Hao forced back by the black-robed man’s finger attack, excitedly shouted, “Sacred Ancient, please exterminate this vicious, cruel Cultiva….”
Before he could finish speaking, the black-robed man’s right hand suddenly shot up to form a claw, which he pointed toward the mid Nascent Soul stage Cultivator. The old man suddenly disappeared. When he reappeared, he was shocked to find that the black-robed man’s hand was wrapped around his neck.
“Pipe down,” said the Black Robed man, his voice cool. He squeezed his hand, and a cracking sound could be heard. The mid Nascent Soul stage Cultivator’s eyes went wide as his body instantly withered up. His life force was sucked out by the black-robed man, and in the blink of an eye, he was transformed into nothing more than a desiccated corpse. His eyes were wide open the entire time, and filled with confusion. In the end, a poof could be heard as his body transformed into black ash. He was completely dead, in both body and spirit.
“He… is not someone you qualify to dishonor with your words,” said the black-robed man, his voice soft as he looked at Meng Hao.
Everything suddenly became quiet. The Crow Divinity Tribe members and neo-demons all began to back up. The Eight Branch Alliance Cultivators were stupefied. Suddenly sapped of their will to fight, they edged backward. All eyes were now upon Meng Hao and the black-robed man, both of whom floated there in mid-air.
The remaining five Nascent Soul Cultivators of the Eight Branch Alliance had pale faces. In their recollection, the Sacred Ancient never seemed to possess consciousness. His incisive attacks were almost like that of a puppet. He also never spoke. But today… not only did he speak, but his expression had changed, and he even seemed to be showing emotion. This was beyond anything they had ever imagined, completely unprecedented. They were scared witless, and couldn’t help but back up.
The black-robed man smiled and continued, “Isn’t that right, exalted Demon Sealer?”
His smile was filled with savagery, as well as excitement. The excitement apparently made the flickering of his body even more intense, causing him to look even more bizarre.
The black mist on the altar within the vortex once again churned. The howling sound grew more furious, as if something wished to burst out from within the mist. Despite that, the faces still seemed capable of suppressing it.
Meng Hao’s expression was the same as ever, but inside, he was trembling, as if great waves were slamming against his heart. What was the most shocking of all to him was that he had finally run into someone who instantly recognized that he was a Demon Sealer.
“Who are you?” asked Meng Hao, staring at the man.