“I’m not gonna do something like this again,” thought Meng Hao. “Stealing doesn’t really suit me. Yeah, next time I’d rather let the old guy buy the item, then find him later and take it from him. That way I can avoid this kind of attention.” Meng Hao was good at problem solving, so he thought for a moment and then sent his Spiritual Sense out again. One of the three Core Formation Cultivators, an old man with a face full of pockmarks was the only one Meng Hao was paying attention to. He had a Cultivation base at the late Core Formation stage; everyone else Meng Hao ignored.
The pock faced old man hadn’t said a word the entire time. Instead, he had observed everything with cold eyes; this made Meng Hao feel a bit of pressure.
Unless he put on the Blood Immortal mask, it would be difficult to defeat him.
He looked over and gave the parrot a look. “This whole disaster is your fault!”
“What are you scared of?” said the parrot, looking back at him with an intense look of pride. “Screw them to death!” Suddenly, its claw lifted up toward its face, placing a black band around its head, covering one eye. After that, it flew off of Meng Hao’s shoulder.
It squawked, and suddenly a black fire appeared around its body, which began to grow rapidly. In the blink of an eye, it was now twenty or thirty meters tall. It lowered its head, looking every bit like the member of some sort of elite death squad. With a cry, it made its attack.
Meng Hao’s eyes went wide. He saw the parrot advancing bravely; it only took an instant for it to slam into the dozen or so pursuing Cultivators. A boom rang out, and the red glow which surrounded the Cultivators instantly collapsed. Some of them coughed up blood; the three Core Formation Cultivators scattered.