His death caused looks of terror to fill the faces of the rest of the Cultivators from the city.
“Everyone here who pledges allegiance to me will live. Anyone who doesn’t….” Meng Hao knew that in the Black Lands, one could not be softhearted. The only way to establish power and gain respect was through ruthlessness. As his voice rang out, his Blood Clones approached, along with the hundred or more Cultivators, whose killing intent billowed to the Heavens. They shot toward the city Cultivators, and immediately the sound of killing rose up, accompanied by miserable screams and cries.
Meng Hao glared at Patriarch Big-head, his eyes flashing with killing intent. “Let’s see how many people you manage to get killed along the way!” He shot off again in pursuit.
This Cultivator was a strange one. No matter what powers Meng Hao employed, he was like a loach, slippery and difficult to lay hands on.
This was especially true considering his secret art of speed boosting. He had used it multiple times to put more distance between himself and Meng Hao. Even more bizarre was his fearsome ability to sense danger. Every time Meng Hao attacked, he seemed capable of predicting it and dodging out of the way.
“That damned no-good fool, he couldn’t even hold the guy up for half a second!!” Patriarch Big-head gritted his teeth. Hair in disarray, clothing ragged, breathing heavily, he shot forward. He was exhausted, but Meng Hao was still chasing him. He lifted his head up to the sky and howled.