The power of this Insect Beast's self-destruction was even greater than Huo Hai had imagined. Back then, he had only made a rough inference. Before seeing it firsthand, how could he possibly have imagined such destructive force?
A decent shield was torn completely apart, and the defensive barriers around his body shattered one after another. Even Huo Hai's robe had been ruined by more than half. Now, anyone who was not particularly familiar with his aura might still recognize him upon seeing him. Huo Hai felt rather vexed. The commotion was too great; it seemed he could not afford to waste much time.
The self-destruction of this Spirit Insect caused disturbances even greater than those produced when a Ninth-Heaven Spirit Saint expert made a move. Self-destruction had never been something that could be precisely controlled. An explosion was an explosion—all its power erupted at once. How could the commotion possibly be small?
"Damn it, this old fellow really isn't so easy to deal with." When the smoke and dust dispersed, Huo Hai's expression darkened. Qingyun looked utterly bedraggled, with patches of his skin exposed and blackened by scorching.
His clothes had been shredded, blood streamed continuously from his body, and more than half his hair had been burned away. Not a trace remained of his former immortal bearing and daoist poise; he looked more like a beggar fleeing disaster. Qingyun's face was dark as ink, though it had already been scorched black, making it impossible to tell much. Still, anyone could see the boundless killing intent in Qingyun's eyes.
Qingyun held a piece of tortoiseshell in his hand. The golden tortoiseshell emitted a faint glow, but it was already covered in cracks. A gust of wind blew past, and the shell completely dispersed into nothingness, leaving nothing behind.
The force