The Slow Torture of a Dull Knife

The Artifact Spirit had not expected many things, much as the old Daoist had not expected matters to evolve into this situation.

It was utterly absurd that Meng Yun could use the blood-sacrifice-to-kill method against him.

No wonder he had said he would not give himself a second chance to escape.

As long as he refused to stop, this method would continuously consume his blood and qi to nourish the Killing Intent.

The stronger the Killing Intent became, the stronger Meng Yun's explosive abilities in every aspect grew.

Thus, in who knew which cycle of the Heavenly Chasm, he had been beaten out.

He had barely stepped in with his front foot when a sinister, terrifying force slammed into his shoulder with his back foot.

He had not died, but his shoulder was probably ruined.

Blood seeped from the old Daoist's lips as he hovered in the air, clutching his shoulder. On the other side, Meng Yun, whose Killing Intent had grown overwhelmingly dense, emerged from the Heavenly Chasm in pursuit.

At this moment, he looked rather pleased, especially when he saw that the old Daoist was nearing the end of his road. He let out an eerie, hideous laugh.

"You will surely die today!"

The old Daoist pressed down on his shoulder and tugged at the corner of his mouth. His lips trembled, but he still retorted sarcastically.

"Old man's luck is soaring today. I won't die."

Meng Yun's face was filled with murderous intent and hideously contorted. A boundless Blood Sea suddenly appeared, taking shape in the next moment.

This blood-red tide, which blotted out the sky and sun, was no longer merely ten li. Combined with the Killing Intent, it had approached fifteen li.

The entire empty space turned sinister and bone-chilling, carrying an endless killing intent.