Blood fell like a cascade.
It watered millions of miles of land.
Liang Hui withdrew his hand, ignoring the blood-filled sky, and watched the old wolf lifted by the spear's tip.
The youth's eyes were detached and merciless.
The long spear trembled slightly, slowly drawing out, with strands of silver brilliance sliding down the shaft, thick like droplets.
And every strand of silver light was filled with the marvelous mystery of Tao Rhyme.
As the long spear withdrew inch by inch, the old wolf kept howling in agony.
Its Tao was being stripped away, in the most intense manner possible.
Accompanied by the increasingly painful howls of the old wolf, the spear was completely pulled out.
Unable to support itself, the old wolf fell towards the ground, turning to ashes in midair.
Liang Hui glanced at where the old wolf had disintegrated, then turned his gaze onto the spear wrapped in silver light.
