The men who surrounded him didn't utter a sound other than calling out "Sect Leader," and they didn't even dare to raise their heads.
After all, the aura emanating from Wu Er was too frightening, making the air in this area three times thicker than elsewhere.
This is the oppressive power of immortals.
Normally, he is like a cloud on the horizon, soft and easygoing; when angry, he is like a thunderclap in a clear sky, swift and decisive.
Meng Ji tried to speak twice, but Wu Er interrupted him and severely injured him in just two moves.
A demon king at the Dao Integration Realm is as powerless as a child.
Meng Ji twisted his body with great effort, finally managing to prop himself up. Looking at Wu Er walking slowly towards him, the anger in his vertical pupils was barely contained.
He hated Wu Er for killing the Kunwu Demon Saint.
How much hatred do you feel?
There is no greater hatred than the murder of one's father.
Wu Er walked very slowly and did not kill Meng Ji directly.
Based on his understanding of Xiao Mingmu, he knew that even if his second junior brother was attacked, he wouldn't be seriously injured; at most, he would be badly hurt.
Moreover, he wasn't a murderer, and those two heavy blows had calmed his anger somewhat.
Now, Wu Er has a few questions to ask.
"I'll ask you a few questions. If you answer truthfully, I'll cripple half of your cultivation and suppress you for five hundred years."
With his face obscured by rain and mist, no one could see Wu Er's expression. His words, though simple, were enough to make one feel dizzy.
This was achieved using a minor spell to weaken willpower, making those affected by the spell more easily subdued.
Meng Ji was already seriously injured, and his spirit was weaker than usual. After hearing Wu Er's words, his eyes began to wander.
This is a spell.
Seeing that Meng Ji was under the spell, Wu Er asked, "How did you get into the mountain-protecting formation?"
"By...by my innate divine power."
Meng Ji shook his head and mumbled something indistinctly.
Upon hearing this, Wu Er's expression softened considerably, which had been hidden in the mist.
This is my innate divine power... I must have entered on my own.
As long as it wasn't some demon saint who secretly opened the great formation to send it in, that's fine. If the demon saint were to cause trouble, things would become much more complicated.
After a moment of silence, Wu Er asked again, "Why did you infiltrate this place and harm people?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Meng Ji's body trembled, his demonic energy became chaotic, and he managed to utter two words with difficulty.
"revenge!"
"revenge......"
Wu Er murmured softly, as if something had come to mind.
He immediately pressed on, asking, "For whom did you seek revenge?"
"for......"
After saying just one word, Meng Ji stopped talking, then gritted his teeth, his veins bulging.
This is a struggle.
"ah!!!"
Meng Ji shouted again, his eyes no longer wandering, but becoming extremely clear, and he stood up, supporting his heavily injured body.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, a sword suddenly appeared in his hand.
The sword was entirely black, with a three-foot-long blade.
It has no elaborate patterns and its style is extremely simple, so simple that it doesn't look like a sword.
After Meng Ji took out the sword, his demonic power began to rise steadily, and the blood flowing from his body was evaporated by the demonic power, turning into red smoke.
"Go to hell!"
Meng Ji suddenly sprang to his feet, unleashing a powerful sword strike.
The sword moved swiftly like the wind, its blade trailing a demonic aura as it slashed towards Wu Er's neck.
A demonic aura suddenly arose, and black mist filled the sky, obscuring the figures of the human and the demon.
Upon seeing this, the surrounding Pengshan Sect cultivators all took a step back.
Most of them were at the Nascent Soul stage, and they were instinctively terrified of the full-force sword strike from the Dao Integration Demon King; even the aftershocks would be enough to cause them pain.
"Clang~"
A sound rang out, a gentle breeze blew by, and the demonic aura that filled the sky began to dissipate.
Within the black mist, Wu Er remained in the same spot, while Meng Ji stood in front of him, the black longsword just an inch away from Wu Er's neck.
Wu Er gripped the black longsword, preventing it from advancing an inch further.
This powerful sword strike was easily blocked by a single hand.
"drink!"
With his face covered in blood, Meng Ji roared again, stomping his feet so hard that they cracked the ground, trying to push the sword in one more step.
But it didn't move the sword forward an inch.
Wu Er was the first to release the tip of the black longsword, then reached forward, slapped Meng Ji's hand holding the sword, and then scooped it up and took the longsword into his own hand.
"Give it back!"
As soon as the sword slipped from his hand, Meng Ji immediately rallied his forces, his eyes wide, trying to snatch it back.
But he was already seriously injured, and he had just exhausted his last bit of strength. How could he possibly snatch it back from Wu Er's hands?
With a gentle push, Wu Er sent Meng Ji, a demon king at the Dao Integration Realm, staggering backward.
Finally, Meng Ji slipped and collapsed to the ground.
Although he struggled to stand up, he couldn't move an inch and could only glare fiercely at Wu Er.
"Sect Leader, let us capture him!"
Seeing that Meng Ji had no strength left, the other cultivators surrounding him immediately took out their magic weapons, intending to step forward and capture Meng Ji.
They all hid to the side while the fight was going on, but after it was over, they all perked up, thinking they would make a good impression on the sect leader.
"Stand down."
Wu Er gently waved his hand, stopping the group of cultivators who wanted to rush forward and claim the credit.
He then held the black longsword he had seized horizontally in front of him, lowered his head slightly, and examined it carefully.
"It's been a long time since I've seen this sword."
Wu Er picked up his robe and wiped the sword a few times with his sleeve. "Two hundred years have passed, and it's still so sharp."
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