"My God!"
The cultivators nearby stared dumbfoundedly, unable to believe it. Ice Demon Wu Han was a famed Dharma Image Realm mighty figure in the Northern Universe. He had roamed unchecked for thousands of years, forging a formidable reputation, and no one knew how many veteran Dharma Image Realm cultivators had died by his hand.
Even when facing a Lightning Tribulation Realm mighty figure, Wu Han could still escape with his life. Yet now, upon encountering Xia Ping, his head had been cut off within a few moves, leaving him utterly unable to resist. It was simply unimaginable.
At this moment, Ice Demon Wu Han was still struggling. Even with his head severed, as a Dharma Image Realm mighty figure, his vitality remained immensely powerful, and he was still able to speak.
He let out a miserable scream. "Impossible! How could I, Wu Han, die? How could I possibly die?! I am the peerless genius of the Ice Demon race. I once inherited the legacy of a Saint and gained countless fortuitous encounters, with limitless potential. I might even have become a Saint.
"But why, exactly, am I going to die at the hands of a lowly human like you? I refuse to accept this! I refuse to accept this! Why has it come to this?!"
He was utterly unwilling. His voice brimmed with resentment, terror, and shock, as though he had never imagined he would meet such a miserable end, slain in just a few moves.
"There is no why. It is simply because you are too weak. Weak, yet neither humble nor modest—arrogant beyond measure, daring to covet what does not belong to you. If you do not die, then who will?"
Xia Ping looked calmly at Ice Demon Wu Han as the mana around him surged forward.