When it was Feng Yunhong's turn, his voice was already filled with despair.
The vortex of flesh and blood had faded until it was almost invisible. The decades of accumulation he'd built up had been completely consumed by Fu Qian.
The consciousnesses of the Transcendents contained within it had also vanished into nothing.
Completely, utterly erased, without a chance of return.
"What was it you said just now?"
Facing Feng Yunhong's furious, despairing roar, Fu Qian suddenly spoke.
"You've endured unimaginable pain for years, so I could never beat you. Is that it?"
"Here, let me show you what real pain feels like."
Following his connection to the vortex of flesh and blood, Fu Qian poured an endless mental assault into Feng Yunhong.
Aah!
A beastlike roar rang out, and Feng Yunhong's consciousness convulsed violently.
Half a minute later, he let out a groan on the verge of collapse.
"Who... are... you...?"
"Fu Qian."
Even in the face of a dying man, Fu Qian kept up the airs of a victor, drawing out his name with theatrical emphasis.
A still more violent surge of emotion followed. Feng Yunhong could hold on no longer. His soul scattered, leaving behind a resentful final whisper that echoed on and on.
"Do I have to pay for this, too?"
Once again, human joys and sorrows failed to connect!
Fu Qian sighed. It seemed the man had misunderstood something.
But he couldn't summon the slightest sympathy for Feng Yunhong.
For one thing, the guy had transcended the divine more than a dozen times and had hunted down over twenty lost lambs.
And for years, he'd used this stone seat as a daily tranquilizer, yet had never figured out what it really was.
All he could say was: the opportunity was there, but you didn't take