"Pfft...!"
"Cough, cough!"
The green-robed elder slammed heavily into the ground and coughed up another great mouthful of blood.
His chest was a mangled mass of flesh and blood, the wound deep enough to expose bone. His face was deathly pale, and his aura had grown extremely feeble. He had clearly suffered grievous injuries.
At the same time.
"Ngh!"
Mo Qianji also gave a muffled groan. The bamboo hat concealing his face had been torn apart by the green-robed elder's sword qi.
It revealed an ugly face covered in scars, like countless centipedes crawling across it.
An unnatural flush spread over his face, and then he could no longer hold back, vomiting a mouthful of blood.
His complexion rapidly paled at a speed visible to the naked eye. Clearly, his injuries were also considerable.
"To think the Southwestern Borderlands held someone like you, yet I'd never heard of you.
"That was close. Had I not kept something in reserve, I would almost have fallen at your hands."
Mo Qianji glanced back at the enormous puppet.
Sword light had pierced the True Saint puppet's face, blasting a huge hole through it. Rampaging sword qi had destroyed many mechanisms and restrictions inside, severely damaging its spirituality.
Then he looked at the shattered remains of the two Sub-Saint puppets on the ground, which were already beyond repair.
Even as he inwardly counted himself lucky, he could not help feeling a pang of heartache.
Refining puppets consumed enormous amounts of materials and mental effort to begin with, at tremendous cost.
Sub-Saint and True Saint puppets in particular not only required extremely precious materials and were immensely difficult to refine, but also needed powerful Spirit Souls incorporated into them.
These three True Saint puppets and twelve Sub-Saint puppets were all the fruits of Mo Qianji's