A broken arm retreated amidst the golden phoenix rain.
The originally white and slender arm had now lost all its skin and flesh, leaving only the arm bone, which was dull in color, covered with cracks and pits, with only three remnants of fingers as the index and thumb had disappeared.
"Ah..."
The wailing of the Blood Lake Ancestor echoed in the Human Dao, yet was dissipated by the ubiquitous formation method around, leaving no spirit consciousness fluctuation or physical sound wave.
Only a mouth silently opened and closed.
"Blood Lake Daoist, your resolve is not firm enough."
"It somewhat contradicts the ruthless, cold-hearted Dao Heart of a Blood Path cultivator, who views millions of beings as mere swine and dogs, and is insufficiently ruthless with oneself."
Jiang Ding sighed slightly: "But just some divine soul deficiencies, why exaggerate? You, an old thing over twenty thousand years old, still so fragile, truly shouldn't be."
