North of Jingyang, ten miles of open wilderness.
A violent shock wave burst outward like ripples, shaking the standing water on the ground into a vast cloud of white mist.
The old man in a black cloak stood on empty air, holding a four-sided refined iron mace.
The mace was dark and heavy, with neither blade nor edge.
Yet it carried a weightiness that was difficult to describe.
A hundred yards away, facing him,
stood a middle-aged scholar in Confucian robes, suspended in midair.
Those robes, however, had long since been torn to shreds, revealing a body covered in black fur beneath.
His once-cultured face hung there like melting wax, and a grotesque goat's eye bulged out from it.
The scholar still clutched half an uneaten human heart in his hand. It gave a faint pulse.
He casually stuffed the heart into his mouth and chewed, splattering juice everywhere, looking thoroughly unsatisfied.
"We've never had a grudge, past or present."
"This King was merely passing through. I was hungry, so I borrowed a few Two-Legged Sheep for a snack."
"It was only a few hundred people, not some royal relatives. Was it really worth chasing me down like this?"
The old man in the black cloak showed no expression. He merely raised the refined iron mace in his hand, slowly.
"Since you ate them, then leave your life behind as payment for the meal."
At that, the Ghost Gold Demon King burst out laughing.
"This King admits that thirty years ago, if I'd seen you, I would've bowed down and fled as far away as I could."
"But now... how much of your Mountain-Viewing Realm cultivation could you possibly have left?"
The old man did not grow angry. The iron mace in his hand hummed softly.
"To kill you."
"Is