He truly had no strength left to fight.
Or rather, he could not even summon the will to fight.
Because Daoist Wu was simply not an existence that human strength could contend against.
No sooner said than done!
Under the backlash of the nine hidden weapons, the deadly poisons within Meng Wuya's body had begun to fully take effect. His face changed from deathly pale to bluish-black, his lips turned purple, and his nails turned black...
Black blood began to flow from his seven orifices.
That black blood was thick as ink and gave off a nauseating stench. It slowly ran down his cheeks and dripped onto his luxurious brocade robe.
Even he himself had never imagined that this day would come.
He had never imagined that those hidden weapons he had been so proud of, those hidden weapons he had personally refined, those hidden weapons he had polished over and over through countless late nights...
Would one day pierce his own body and make him taste the effects of those nine deadly poisons.
This was probably the karmic retribution people of the martial world often spoke of.
Thud!
Meng Wuya's body could no longer hold on, and he collapsed heavily to the ground.
He lay flat on his back upon the cold floor of the pavilion, gazing at the sky shrouded in dark clouds overhead, at the waning moon flickering in and out of view, at the dead branches and fallen leaves swaying in the night wind.
His consciousness began to blur, his breathing grew rapid, and his heartbeat became erratic.
Yet he still used the last of his strength to turn his head and look toward the flower hall.
Outside the flower hall, the Succubus still stood there.
The night wind stirred her robes with a sharp flutter.