Although he had not been seriously injured on the spot, that sudden soul attack had still caused his Spiritual Power to stall for an instant!
When experts clashed, a single breath could decide life or death!
A black shadow, carrying a terrifying aura that seemed to devour everything, shot out of the woods!
Its target was not the strongest, Zhao Qingcang.
It was one of the two late-stage Golden Core elders who had temporarily lost the ability to fight back because of the agony in their souls, clutching their heads and screaming!
When picking persimmons, you go for the soft ones!
Han Wuji's eyes held no fear, no hesitation—only the boundless greed of a hunter who had fixed his sights on prey!
Thump—!
The muffled sound was not that of a blade piercing flesh. It was more like a puncture in a pouch filled with foul water.
Han Wuji's right hand, covered in a layer of writhing black mist, pierced straight through the elder's protective Spiritual Power and plunged into his dantian.
There was no blood and no physical wound.
The elder's screams abruptly stopped. In their place came a terror from the depths of his soul, beyond the power of words to describe. His eyes bulged, blood vessels covering the whites as he stared fixedly at Han Wuji before him.
What a young face—far too young.
But those eyes...
There was no human emotion in them, only a hunger as deep as the abyss.
"No... you..."
The elder tried to say something, but his life essence, his Golden Core, and centuries of cultivation were being madly drawn away through Han Wuji's arm by an irresistible force.
His body visibly withered.
His skin lost its luster and clung to his bones. His muscles shrank, his hair turned from black to