Meng Zhao's chained spear technique had brought his martial path to near perfection. He incorporated the Heavenly Dao into the divine spear, making it vast and boundless without losing its delicate subtlety.
Nor should one underestimate those tiny arcs of lightning. Every single one could inflict tons of damage upon a Celestial Human-level expert.
Yet this monster, sewn and pieced together from countless corpses, was far from as simple as imagined, nor was it something that could be easily knocked down.
That dense thunderous net, like the cries of a thousand birds, penetrated every tissue within its arm. It was as though countless scouts had been sent out to probe for its weaknesses, yet what they found was a seamless whole, flawless and perfect.
The next instant, clusters of gray Demise Qi appeared around the sewn monster's arm, surging and spreading as they circled it. They extinguished every trace of Meng Zhao's thunderous spear force, while the entire arm suffered no obvious damage or impact.
Meng Zhao's pupils contracted, and understanding dawned on him. Right—even the Bone Throne from before had been a fusion of a special treasure and divine ability. How could this monster pieced together from countless corpses fail to employ such a method?
Moreover, the creation of this monster should have been intimately connected to the power of the Dao Fruit. Thus, the existence it formed was also close to perfection.
Those irregular black lines that looked like flaws exposed by imperfect stitching were, in truth, another deeper layer of Dao rhythm.
Of course, Meng Zhao was not afraid at this moment. It was simple: compared to the Seven-Headed Xiangliu, this thing was not impossible to deal with.
He had already smashed the Bone Throne to dust. This Sewn-Corpse Monster might not escape being cut down beneath