The Blood Clone’s eyes suddenly flickered and seemed to come to life. The look in its eyes suddenly resembled that of Meng Hao’s. “Did you really forget me so quickly?” it said. “Didn’t you say you would chase me to the ends of the earth to kill me?”
Great waves of emotion suddenly flickered across Patriarch Rubicund’s face. Without thinking about it, he backed up, his heart racing.
“It’s him…. But… but how could he be using a puppet like this? Is it a puppet, or… could it be… an Etheric Incarnation?” When his thoughts reached this point, his mind began to spin, and the blood completely drained from his face. The technique to form Etheric Incarnations was not something Core Formation Cultivators could master. It was a divine ability that only Nascent Soul Cultivators could employ!
As the old man began to flee, he suddenly heard the sound of running. A black mist appeared as the fifty or more Cultivators arrived, running together according to the parrot’s spell formation.
“Just who is this guy…?” Patriarch Rubicund’s scalp went numb, and his eyes filled with despair and frenzy.
Meanwhile, in another location and a different direction, Patriarch Pockmarks of the Han River Sect was speaking similar words, his face filled with bitterness.
He was surrounded by a red mist, outside of which were fifty Cultivators running in formation. In front of him was a figure dressed in a red robe, with indistinct facial features. The only thing he could make out were two blood-red eyes.
The eyes seemed to contain no emotions at all; they were completely merciless.
Patriarch Pockmark’s face was pale; his Cultivation base was actually the weakest of the three; he was of the late Core Formation stage, but his injuries were severe. Cracks covered his Core, and he could only wield roughly thirty percent of his power.
He hesitated for a moment then said, “Look, all of this is just a misunderstanding. Sir….” Suddenly, a boom filled the air, and the entire area was covered in mist.
Off in another direction, Meng Hao’s face was calm as he shot through mid-air in a band of light. Up ahead of him, Patriarch Big-head’s scalp was numb as he used everything he could muster to fly forward.
Occasionally he would spit up some blood; Meng Hao wasn’t sure what secret technique he was using, but it continued to rapidly boost his speed. Meng Hao followed, frowning. At the moment, he was pushing forward with all the speed he could muster, but was still unable to catch up. He could only maintain the current distance.
“Just what technique is he using to achieve such speed?” thought Meng Hao, his eyes flashing. He suddenly waved his right hand out and pointed with his index finger. “Demon Sealing, Eighth Hex!” His finger descended, and ghost images sprang up everywhere as a bizarre power shot toward Patriarch Big-head.
As it descended, the man’s expression changed dramatically. However, just a moment later, to Meng Hao’s shock, he spit up a mouthful of blood and used some method to seemingly unfetter his body and shoot forward in a flash.
Meng Hao was visibly shocked.