The Western Desert Cultivator gave the young woman a vicious, greedy smile. “When neo-demons began to be raised in the Western Desert, the Frigid Blood Clan brought forth generation after generation of Grand Dragoneer. When I was small, I heard all of the legends about your clan.
“Grand Dragoneers wield power far greater than that of totems. They are the true pinnacle of the Western Desert. As for me… I’m a mere rank 3 Dragoneer. But, if I can seize the legacy of the Frigid Blood Clan… then I’ll have a chance to become a Grand Dragoneer! Hanxue Shan, what do you think of the neo-demons I’ve raised?” The Western Desert Cultivator laughed heartily as the black wolves in the area all lifted their heads up and howled. They seemed to bristle with ferocity. 1
The glowing shield surrounding the white-robed young woman was showing signs of breaking apart. Her face was pale, and blood oozed from her mouth. There was despair in her eyes but also determination.
Turning to the two Cultivators protecting her, she said, “Don’t worry about me, leave while you can!”
The two Cultivators looked nervous. They were about to say something when the young woman glared, indicating that they shouldn’t speak.
It was at this moment that the bodies of the howling black wolves suddenly began to expand, and they charged forward. They slammed into the shield, which was now more than half destroyed. From the look of things, one more attack would thoroughly shatter it.
The wolves were on the verge of attacking again, and the Western Desert Cultivator’s eyes were glowing with a bright light. At this exact moment, the sound of footsteps crunching on snow suddenly echoed out from within the forest.
The sound was extremely distinct. Mortals did not live in this area, so the instant the sound of the footsteps could be heard, it caused the white-robed young woman and her companion Cultivators to look toward where the sound was coming from. The Western Desert Cultivator also looked over with a frown.
What they saw was a young man wearing a long robe, with black hair flowing down past his shoulders. His features were refined, and he had a cultured air. This, of course, was Meng Hao; he walked out slowly, looking every bit like a scholar.
From his bearing, he seemed as if he were simply enjoying a midnight stroll in his own backyard, out to see the beautiful layers of snow that had fallen on his flower garden. He strolled out, carrying a scroll in one hand, which only lent further to his scholarly aura.
The Western Desert Cultivator’s eyes narrowed, as if he disbelieved Meng Hao’s profound aura were real. He waved his right hand, and immediately eight black wolves leaped toward Meng Hao, howling, their crimson eyes glowing brightly.
The white-robed young woman seemed to be upset at the sight of it, but all of her energy was focused on controlling the Frigid Snow Larva, leaving her powerless to provide any assistance. She could only watch silently.
“Excellent fur,” said Meng Hao lightly, glancing at the wolves. “If the parrot were here, he would probably like them.” These wolves were not illusory creations of magic, but flesh and blood creatures.
However, there was something different about them, as if totemic power also existed inside them. This was the first time Meng Hao had seen beasts like this. There were more than a hundred of them, and each one emanated a power similar to that of the late Foundation Establishment stage.