Although Yu Changkong had missed much information because his mind had been controlled, the fact that he could infer from Meng Zhao watching the battle that Meng Zhao was the one truly determined to kill him showed that he still had something to him. At the very least, few could match his sensitivity.
Yu Changkong knew even better that the Heavenly Demon Palace Lord had regarded him as a pawn from beginning to end, one to be discarded at any time. There was even less chance that he would endanger himself to save Yu Changkong.
Thus, the situation Yu Changkong faced today was one of certain death.
Yet at the end of his life, his thoughts differed from those of ordinary men. Though he clung to life, he did not fear death. Though he harbored boundless regrets, he would not remain stubbornly deluded.
On the contrary, Yu Changkong's mind was clearer than ever at this moment. He knew that this life of his had brought him one chance, and one chance only: could he use this opportunity to assassinate Northern Meng Dragon, who stood watching coldly and posed an immeasurable threat to the imperial clan?
Yes, Yu Changkong's target had shifted from Xie Wanzhi, whom he faced in battle, to Meng Zhao, who watched from afar.
The reason was simple. He no longer cared about his own life or death. Since he had cast life and death aside, he had to accomplish something earthshaking—not only to fulfill his own loyalty and righteousness, but also to leave behind a far-reaching mark for future generations.
Perhaps because his end was drawing near, despite missing half his heart, Yu Changkong's bearing and aura only grew more imposing and blazing. Blood and qi rose like wolf smoke from above his head, shooting straight into