Meng Hao’s pupil’s constricted. There was no time to pull out another magical item, so he released the scroll painting to float at his side. It was a critical juncture, with no time even to think. He stamped his right foot down onto the treasured fan. It instantly disassembled, the sixteen feathers transforming into a rain. Ten of them shot toward the crystalline sword, with six remaining behind to defend against the lightning bolt.
To deal with the incoming Cold Wind Finger, Meng Hao dropped toward the ground and then extended his right hand upward. A flame python twenty or thirty meters in length shot out from the center of his palm, rushing to intercept the Cold Wind Finger. At the same time, his left hand flashed an incantation, then waved forward. A Wind Blade emerged, lending its power to the Flame Python, which grew even larger as it shot toward the Cold Wind Finger.
All of this takes some time to describe, but in actuality it happened in the time it takes for a spark to fly up from a piece of flint. A massive boom rang out as the lightning slammed into the six feathers. It was weakened, but it still hit Meng Hao, causing him to vomit up a mouthful of blood.
At the same time, the crystalline sword collided with the ten feathers. A series of explosions could be heard as the feathers were shattered. The sword aura continued on, stabbing through Meng Hao. He coughed up more blood, his body trembling.
Next was the most powerful attack of all, the Cold Wind Finger. Once a lost art, it had been improved to allow Cultivators of the Qi Condensation level to use it. Currently, it could only be used by someone of the ninth level of Qi Condensation.
A boom resounded out. The disparity between the Cultivation base levels was immediately apparent. Despite the considerable combined might of the Flame Python and the Wind Blade, they were still torn to pieces. They managed to destroy about half of the black colored Cold Wind Finger. The rest of it continued on through, stabbing into Meng Hao’s chest. He coughed up even more blood, which instantly turned black and congealed into chunks of ice. His body spun backwards.
Intense coldness filled his body, making him feel as if he were about to freeze. He knew that this was a critical moment. His right hand shot out, and the elusive Hellfighting Spike emerged, along with two banners, which coiled around his body.
Currently, Meng Hao was seriously injured, but hadn’t lost his will to fight back. He gritted his teeth and made to flee. But then something happened that no one had expected, neither the fleeing Meng Hao, nor Liu Daoyun, nor the currently bedraggled Zhou and Xu from the Winding Stream Sect. Suddenly, a third party arrived to join the fight!
An arrow shot forth from the distance, accompanied by a shrill, piercing scream. It flew directly toward Meng Hao, filled with intense killing intent. It clearly was meant to pierce his heart and kill him.
It moved with incredible speed toward him. He suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his chest, whereupon he let out a roar. The two hovering banners moved to block the arrow. An explosion rang out as the banners were shattered. As the arrow continued forward, Meng Hao waved his right hand, sending the Hellfighting spike, which he had originally wanted to use to counterattack, to intercept the arrow.
There was a boom, and Meng Hao spit out more blood. He watched as the black spike disintegrated. The arrow slowed some, but continued on toward him.
He retreated, dropping toward the ground, but finding no place to conceal himself. Even if the few remaining unsheltered feathers caught him and carried him off, there were too few of them. He wouldn’t be fast enough to evade the arrow.
Borrowing some momentum from the explosion of the Hellfighting Spike, Meng Hao took in a ragged breath. A fierce look appeared in his eyes, and he smacked his bag of holding again. A wooden sword appeared. He didn’t even have time to point the sword towards the arrow. It came in so quickly that it slammed into the side of the blade