The remaining Fire Qilins did not suffer the fate of exploding on the spot, but they were completely at a disadvantage. There was not the slightest trace left of the ferocious majesty of steel beasts. Instead, they looked like herbivores that had encountered their natural predator, fleeing toward the perimeter in blind panic.
Yet from the center of the seven or eight Fire Qilins—from the depths of the "Eye of the Storm"—an endless torrent of raging flames sprayed forth, forming rings of immensely powerful vortices.
The blazing vortices stretched tentacles in every direction, dragging all the Fire Qilins tightly in their grip, leaving them utterly unable to escape the net of destruction.
Meng Chao stared wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he realized that the master of the death storm and flaming vortices was an old man with snow-white hair and beard, who looked utterly deranged.
They were still too far apart for Meng Chao to make out the man's features.
But he could clearly sense the fury and sorrow flooding from the old man, like a burst dam unleashing a deluge that swallowed half the forest in an instant.
He was like a White-Haired Ghost from the depths of hell, feeding on traitors.
His aura was even more frenzied than that of a Doomsday Beast.
One Fire Qilin had nowhere left to run and was forced to turn around, firing every last round of ammunition on its body at him.
Hundreds of shrieking streaks of flame formed an impenetrable barrage, instantly engulfing the White-Haired Ghost from head to toe.
Yet the White-Haired Ghost tore through the dense barrage as easily as ripping apart a soaked newspaper. He thrust a hand out from the roaring flames and seized the Fire Qilin's helmet directly.
The Fire Qilin's helmet was tightly connected to its