But after his cultivation base dropped from the ninth level and he was injured, he was already at a disadvantage. Now, terrified by the majestic wooden sword, he could only retaliate with sharp arrows. However, his cultivation base was weakening, and even his sharp arrows had lost much of their power, no longer as imposing as before. Moreover, as Ding Xin shot his sixth arrow, his body trembled violently, his face turned pale, and his cultivation base instantly dropped from the eighth level of Qi Condensation to the seventh level.
With his cultivation base suppressed, the wooden sword suddenly flew forward, piercing through Ding Xin's chest. Although it didn't strike a fatal point, fresh blood still gushed out. Ding Xin let out a tragic cry and retreated in a panic.
His body trembled as he clearly felt the spiritual energy within him dissipate through the wound created by the sword. His cultivation base, already on the verge of collapse, plummeted directly from the eighth level of Qi Condensation to the seventh level.
This wasn't a true drop in cultivation, but rather that the recovery of spiritual energy in his body couldn't keep up with the consumption. In that instant, due to continuous consumption, his spiritual energy became increasingly scarce, so his cultivation base was only equivalent to the seventh level of Qi Condensation.
Furthermore, even if Ding Xin swallowed elixirs, the two sword wounds would surely reduce their efficacy, making it difficult for him to recover in a short time.
"I am an inner sect disciple of the Purple Cloud Sect! If you try to kill me, the Purple Cloud Sect will hunt you down for a hundred years, relentlessly, until you die!" Ding Xin shrieked mournfully. At this moment, he was in an extremely sorry state, sometimes whimpering, sometimes crying out tragically. He was then grazed by Meng Hao's wooden sword. Although it didn't pierce him, it created a bloody streak, causing his spiritual energy to dissipate even faster.
"Meng Mou has already died once," Meng Hao said indifferently, his eyes cold, as he raised the sword in his right hand.
Time gradually passed. In the blink of an eye, half an hour had gone by. During this half an hour, Ding Xin continuously wailed tragically. His body was now covered in countless sword wounds, drenched in fresh blood. Although these wounds were not fatal, with blood flowing like this, he would eventually die sooner or than later.
Even as a cultivator, Ding Xin was now dizzy and disoriented, but the terror within him was many times greater. What horrified him was that his body seemed to have become a sieve, with his spiritual power rapidly dissipating.
Sixth level of Qi Condensation, fifth level of Qi Condensation, fourth level of Qi Condensation...
With a thud, Ding Xin's body fell straight to the ground. He spat out fresh blood and desperately ran forward. He no longer had the strength to fly; his cultivation base had dropped to the third level of Qi Condensation.
"Meng Hao, if you dare to kill me, you will have no burial place in the future! I am an inner sect disciple of the Purple Cloud Sect! If I die, the entire Zhao Kingdom will be implicated! Do you dare to kill me, just watch!" Ding Xin trembled, suppressing his fear, and spat out more fresh blood.
Meng Hao lifted Ding Xin onto the large flying leaf with one hand, not saying a word. With a flick of his right hand, the wooden sword flew out again and stabbed directly into Ding Xin's body.
An incense stick's time later, Ding Xin collapsed in the forest. At this moment, no trace of his former grand sect disciple demeanor could be seen. He died with his eyes wide open, staring at Meng Hao, his gaze filled with intense resentment, but also a profound regret. He regretted that when he was pursuing Meng Hao earlier, he shouldn't have entertained the idea of watching his opponent become demonized, but instead should have gone all out, sparing no expense to kill Meng Hao.
"I should have killed you earlier!" Ding Xin gnashed his teeth, his chest heaving. At this moment, he seemed barely able to breathe.
"You yourself taught me this." Meng Hao continued his revenge. He raised his sword, and Ding Xin's head flew into the air, blood splattering everywhere. Ding Xin's head stopped not far away, rolling around before coming to rest against the base of a large tree.
His eyes were still open. He felt no regret, because he was a ninth-level Qi Condensation disciple of the Purple Cloud Sect, because he was a heaven-blessed talent, because he would definitely be able to reach Foundation Establishment. Once he reached Foundation Establishment, he would become one of the Purple Cloud Sect's heaven-blessed talents, his name shaking the Southern Domain.
But today, he died in the remote Zhao State, dying at the hands of a cultivator he had once regarded as an ant, Meng Hao.
Meng Hao closed his eyes tightly, opening them only after a long time. This was not the first time he had killed someone, nor did he still feel fear when killing. He had already died once.
The first time he saw Yan Ziguo, he knew he had to kill this person. Everyone connected to him had to be silenced.
A look of determination appeared in Meng Hao's eyes. He had found the root cause; now, should he be decisive or not?
"I don't intend to die a second time." Meng Hao raised his right hand and grabbed. Immediately, the storage bag on Ding Xin's person flew up and was caught in his hand. At once, a Fire Python appeared, enveloping Ding Xin's head and corpse, quickly turning them to ashes.
Meng Hao turned and walked away.
It was twilight now. As Meng Hao walked further, a few snowflakes fell from the sky. The snowflakes covered his footprints, concealing the scent of blood in the area. Meng Hao ran further and further.
"I am snow in the bitter cold winter; I must not approach summer, because in summer, snow will melt. This is not its world, nor is it my world." Meng Hao's figure, scholarly in appearance, had, beneath that quiet demeanor, transformed into icy coldness.
After experiencing the battle in the North Sea, especially Meng Hao, who had been resurrected from the lake, the death qi on his body had completely dissipated, not a trace remaining. Now, walking in the snow and wind, not a hint of death qi emanated from him.
This black qi had entangled Meng Hao for nearly a month, and finally, it no longer lingered around him, making Meng Hao's steps in this snow and wind extremely slow and unhurried.
The snow and wind grew stronger and stronger, as if it were the year's largest and final snowfall. The snowflakes seemed like the transition between seasons, causing them to melt, and so they wanted to fall freely on this one day.
Snow fell all over Meng Hao's body, until he reached the peak of Mount Daqing, at the cave where Meng Hao had been taken away that year. Meng Hao sat cross-legged inside, silently watching the snow fall outside, gusts of wind whistling past his ears.
It was late night now.
The night sky was obscured by snowflakes; the moon could not be seen, only endless falling snow, seemingly covering the entire world.
In front of Meng Hao was a bonfire. The flames were now blazing, their flickering light illuminating Meng Hao's face, making it shimmer. Meng Hao sat there quietly, silent.
"It's almost four years."
From the time he entered the Reliance Sect until now, it had been almost four years. Meng Hao had also transformed from a youth into a young man; he was now twenty years old.
After a long time, Meng Hao lowered his head to look at his hands. His hands were very clean, without dirt, but Meng Hao clearly saw the bloodstains on them.
Over the past four years, he had killed more than just one person. From the very beginning until now, though he hadn't been constantly anxious, he could be considered numb. Yet, he had been able to accept and adapt. It was as if an invisible force of heaven and earth, silently emanating from somewhere, was subtly changing everything about Meng Hao, changing his soul, changing his life, and changing his future.