The Old Flood Dragon's secret delight at escaping with its life vanished in an instant.
The Thunder Escape Technique, which had nearly exhausted its strength, suddenly surged in speed again.
Its entire draconic body became a streak of pitch-black lightning, fleeing madly forward.
It did not want to die.
It had lived for so, so long!
Even if its lifespan was nearly spent... even if, without today's events, it would die of old age in this land within a few thousand years unless it found another way.
But if it had truly come to terms with life and death...
Why would it still be desperately seeking a way to break through?!
How could it accept its own death?!
"Fellow cultivator! Fellow cultivator, wait!"
The Old Flood Dragon shouted at the top of its lungs as it fled.
"I surrender! I surrender!"
"I know countless secrets of Spirit Mountain! Spare my life, fellow cultivator, and I will serve as your mount, obeying your every command!"
Yet.
The only answer it received.
Was the increasingly shrill whistle of something tearing through the air behind it, drawing ever closer.
In the blink of an eye.
The golden streak had closed to within a thousand feet of its back.
The Old Flood Dragon felt an icy chill along its spine.
As though merely being bathed in that golden light sent agony coursing through its body.
It instinctively looked back.
The black-robed girl stood amid the golden light, her long hair whipping wildly, her face cold and impassive.
Her fair, slender hand was already rising slowly.
In her palm.
Black mist churned, and a red gleam flashed.
Like the life-reaping King of Hell gazing indifferently at a name in the Book of Life and Death.
"A family should all be together, neatly accounted for. Don't