Cultivators died when they were killed, too.
It might have been a meaningless statement, but after watching the figure before him get pounded an unknown number of times until it had completely turned into an unrecognizable lump of flesh and blood, Ye Xiu casually tossed the still-tough bloody tentacles aside.
The life force within his body had been refined by the Law of Life. Even counting two major realms above him, there were practically none who could rival him.
Blood demon power was inherently the sort of thing that climbed higher with the pole—the stronger its host, the stronger it became. Having been infused with so much of Ye Xiu's life force, the flesh-and-blood tentacles that had originally come from Su Yanluo had now reached a terrifying level of strength.
So much so that even their original owner had been crushed into minced meat beneath that endless barrage of heavy blows, while these two tentacles still retained their original elasticity and toughness.
Honestly, if there were cultivators willing to overlook the disgust and take these things back to refine them properly, they might actually be able to make some decent magical artifacts.
After all, this was the flesh of a great cultivator fused with Laws. No matter how one looked at it, it had value.
But Ye Xiu had no interest in cleaning up this kind of spine-chilling junk.
His bottom line was not particularly high, but he had one nonetheless. Playing with the flesh and blood of his own kind all day long was rather chilling.
Besides, he did not want someone to saddle him with some strange title one day.
Su Yanluo's flesh had completely collapsed. With no divine soul left to sustain it, the body that had even swallowed demon blood in hopes of climbing another step