A huge boom rang out as the black hand collapsed into pieces. The emaciated man coughed up blood and was flung backward. As he flew through the air, he coughed up three more mouthfuls of blood. His cultivation base dropped, and cracking sounds rang out as a life-protecting jade slip was destroyed. Without that jade slip, he would most certainly have been dead.
Everything was dead silent. The Ji Clan members were completely shaken as they stared at Meng Hao. It was the same with the cultivators on the outside.
“Now that… is Meng Hao!”
“He is a Chosen who rose to fame during the war between the Southern Domain and the Northern Reaches. He’s the number one figure of this generation in the lands of South Heaven….”
“That battlefield just now must have been images from the war….”
A sharp inhalation could be heard, followed by the image of Meng Hao shaking his head. “Couldn’t control it fully,” he said.
With that, he made a beckoning motion, and his second true self vanished, once again turning into his shadow. From what everyone watching could see, it appeared as if Meng Hao was once again calm and tranquil.
“That’s enough, you little punk!”
The next voice that echoed out was ancient and archaic. It came from deep within the Ji Clan ancestral mansion, from a location that looked very different from the beautifully decorated buildings around it. It was a thatched cottage that seemed completely ordinary in every respect. Suddenly, the cottage’s door opened, and a teenager stepped out.
He appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen, but had a full head of white hair. His expression was the type you would see on an old man; clearly, he cultivated some technique that allowed the body to reverse the effects of aging.
As soon as he stepped out, everything in front of him trembled. Shockingly, an enormous Dharma Idol appeared behind him.
The Dharma Idol was not humanoid, but rather, was an enormous bottle gourd which was a swirl of red, blue and yellow colors. As soon as it appeared, shocking light spread out to cover over the entire fortress.
As soon as the Ji Clan cultivators saw the bottle gourd and heard the ancient voice, their spirits were lifted. Regardless of age, they all turned toward the gourd, clasped hands and bowed.
“Greetings, Patriarch Nine!”
“It’s Patriarch Nine! Greetings, Patriarch Nine!”
Simultaneously, the teenager strode forward a single step. It was as if the entire Ji Clan fortress shrunk; in the blink of an eye, he was directly in front of the crowd of Ji Clan cultivators. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his white hair floated around him as he stared icily at Meng Hao.
—–