"Your divine abilities are unmatched, your martial arts invincible. We know we are no match for you. Please spare our lives."
At a time like this, stubbornness was useless, and lacking strength was equally useless. They could only see whether softness might overcome hardness, whether a humble posture could buy them a path to survival. From Meng Zhao's words and conduct, he did not seem to be someone given to slaughter.
True, Meng Zhao had crushed the old monk Yi Heng to death and was determined to kill the old Daoist Xuan Wei. Two Great Grandmasters had been killed by Meng Zhao like helpless chicks.
Yet judging by the peerless martial prowess Meng Zhao had displayed, he truly could not be called bloodthirsty. If he really had been, he would have killed all of them long ago. Why wait until now?
Meng Zhao waved a hand, having no spare time to deal with them. He walked to the old Daoist's corpse and pointed. A ball of blazing flame abruptly rose up, continuously scorching and burning the old Daoist's body. In the blink of an eye, it had reduced it to ashes.
Yet a streak of spiritual light flickered. With a rattling, snapping sound, a battle flag rose from within the raging flames.
Its pole was twelve feet long and entirely azure blue. The fabric of the flag was watery blue, rippling with wave after wave. Though it looked like a battle flag, every person present felt through their spiritual senses that it was no flag at all, but a vast sea surging freely and without restraint.
Bursts of damp tidal aura drifted forth, while the roar of ocean waves resounded. The spiritual light looked ready to revive.
This had not been triggered by the old Daoist Xuan Wei before his