Lying on the ground, Tu Shan Jun turned his head to look.
The newcomer stood eight feet tall.
His long black hair was tied up casually.
He had the face of a young man.
He wore an intricate ceremonial robe, resembling some kind of crown attire.
The young man stopped not far away and glanced at Tu Shan Jun.
He said calmly, "Don't blame me for cutting off your spiritual power. You are strong, but not strong enough. Even if I let you drain all your spiritual power, you still could not defeat a peak Great Saint wielding a divine weapon."
"Letting you use divine abilities with thirty percent of your strength is already the limit of what I can do."
Tu Shan Jun looked toward the sky.
The river of stars shone brilliantly.
Luo Tianpeng did not attack again.
In his eyes, that unfamiliar Saint no longer posed any concern. Without the aid of a sect treasure, he would perish sooner or later.
The man looked much like a core disciple, yet he was estranged from his sect. His injuries must have been beyond salvation.
Now that victory was firmly in his grasp, Luo Tianpeng regained his usual bearing. Smiling with the unhurried composure of a sovereign, he said, "So the Young Cult Master has arrived."
As he spoke, his gaze searched about, as though looking for something.
"Are you looking for him?"
The Young Cult Master raised one hand and took out a head with its eyes closed.
Its owner was the scholar, one of the Four Hall Masters who had loyally served Luo Tianpeng. Now, only his head remained, drifting in the air.
There was no pain on the head's face. Its expression was even remarkably relaxed, but the pallor could not be concealed from anyone.
Luo