That person was none other than Meng Hao.
Meng Hao was the only person among them who knew that the decision actually wasn’t his to make. This Thorn Rampart was actually not responding to any of his commands….
He thought silently as he looked around. The thorns were still stabbed through the surrounding Cultivators, who could only stand there with looks of despair on their faces.
It was at this moment that suddenly, a voice entered Meng Hao’s ears that no one else could hear. It was an ancient voice, as weak as if it came from the mouth of someone about to die.
“The destructive Thorn Rampart can exterminate anything under the Spirit Severing stage. Once it takes root, it can’t be moved, and will live for one month…. It doesn’t matter how you woke it. Right now, you need to still your mind and extract a drop of blood from yourself that contains some of your will. Place it onto the Thorn Rampart trunk in front of you. Remember…. The drop of blood must contain your will. That will allow you to issue an order to the thorns.” The voice seemed to have come out from nowhere, but as soon as Meng Hao heard it, he suddenly recalled the voice he had heard three months ago when Zhou Dekun was taken.
The voice was one and the same.
Meng Hao’s eyes glittered as he thought. According to the method just described to him, he sliced a cut onto his forehead. A drop of blood appeared, which contained some of Meng Hao’s Cultivation base and will. As it flew forward, Meng Hao felt a wave of weakness flow through him. He knew that in his entire life, he could produce no more than five such drops of blood!
Anything more than five would be far too much of a loss.
Surrounded by silence, Meng Hao clenched his jaw. The blood was extremely precious, but, for the sake of the Frigid Snow Larva… he caused the drop to fly forward and enter into the Thorn Rampart trunk. His eyes flashed.
Nothing obstructed its way; it merged into the Thorn Rampart trunk, which then began to tremble.
Instantly, the thorns stabbed into the Holy Snow City Cultivators faded from sight, and their wounds closed up. The thorns actually remained in their bodies, fuel with which to heal their wounds.
As the thorns disappeared, the Black Lands Palace and Western Desert Cultivators outside of the city let out bloodcurdling screams. Their bodies instantly began to wither completely. The sounds of explosions filled the air as some of the dying Cultivators chose to self-detonate.
The explosions caused Meng Hao’s mind to feel as if it were shattering. It seemed as if he had become one with the Thorn Rampart trunk, and that all of the thorns spread about were extensions of his will.
With a mere thought, he could kill everyone.
At the same time, his Spiritual Sense felt as if it were wasting away. Meng Hao’s Spiritual Sense was second only to that of a Nascent Soul Cultivator, far above that of anyone in the same stage as him. Were it not, then the strain would have completely dried it up.
Suddenly, Meng Hao’s will sensed something new. Outside of the city, in a location stabbed through with a handful of thorns, someone spoke in a low voice.
“Grandmaster Meng, is that you?”