Jiang Ding soared in the sky, continuing his flight towards the location of the Sutra Pavilion.
To say it was one sword, it was indeed one sword.
At this time, apart from clues to Immortal Technique, nothing could distract him, not even for a quarter hour.
At this moment, over two thousand kilometers away, the Sword Intent disappeared.
"Dead? Or did he successfully escape?"
Jiang Ding muttered to himself.
"The title 'Blood Hand Demon' is not a good one; it brings calamity. If he's not dead, when I have the time after Blood Cloud has accomplished his historical mission of being the vanguard to the king, destabilizing the rule of the Northern Plains families, I'll go and kill him myself."
Even being a demon is tolerable.
In a fight against an enemy, any method used is justifiable, be it Ghost Dao, Blood Path, all are acceptable.
But to habitually involve and slaughter hundreds of thousands, even millions, of ordinary people—that kind of scourge is better off dying sooner to find peace in the afterlife.
"If Blood Cloud obstructs, he will also be killed."
To tell the truth, he did have a favorable impression of Blood Cloud.
Starting as a mere Horse Slave, reaching his status today, although there was great fortune involved, it was not easy at all.
Despite the great limitations and destruction he brought, he did indeed cause the familial rule of the Northern Plains, which had persisted for tens of thousands of years, to loosen. He attracted the attention of some Northern Plains families, enabling more outsider Golden Pill Monks to be born and to grow.
While he regarded Blood Cloud favorably, if he dared to oppose him, he would be killed.
Jiang Ding paused mid-step.
"Sword Intent, it's reappeared?"
"How is this guy so hard to kill, as resilient as a cockroach."
He turned around, looking toward a position two thousand kilometers away, his expression showing hesitation and indecision.
Melting Soldier Mountain.
Immortal Baimei and the other Golden Pill Monks stood with their hands tied, silent as cicadas in winter, daring not to breathe too loudly, let alone offer words of comfort.
Everyone knew that the Blood Hand Demon and the main general had started their journey together as Horse Slaves. They could be said to be not only brothers but even closer than blood kin, having been companions for hundreds of years.
Although the general was always mild-mannered, not prone to displacing anger,
One could never be too sure at times like these.
Historical records are filled with many heroes and even supreme powerhouses who dominated an era, not lacking those whose temperaments drastically changed in their later years.
Because with the relentless passage of time, the ruthless flow of years, familiar faces around one die one after another, until, supreme and alone, one finds no acquaintance left in the world, no one who can enter the hearts of High-Level Cultivators.
All emotional anchors in the world are gone.
For him now, the world held no more attachments.
In such circumstances, there was nothing that could not change or be changed.
Blood Cloud stared blankly at the remnants of flesh and blood in his hand, not speaking, his expression distant.
In that dim recollection, he remembered many things.
Back in Yin's mortal tribe, where his father died in battle, his mother was taken away, and he and his brother became Horse Slaves—every day wearing little, eating little, grooming horses, picking up cow dung, mowing grass, always endless chores.
That pig-headed Chieftain named Yin Hei, who took his mother, killed his father, and whipped him daily.
Later his mother died, and he and his brother fled, finding the remains of a Rogue Cultivator of Qi Practicing. After years of arduous cultivation, they returned to kill the entire family of Yin Hei, and were then pursued by Yin Clan's Cultivators...
Hundreds of years, through all the hardships, they had come this far.
And today, his brother just disappeared like that.
Blood Cloud's expression completely calmed as if he made up his mind in that moment.
"Back then, there was one thing I kept from you."
"When we were at the ruins of the Blood River Sect, we obtained two Blood Lotus Seeds. We agreed to take one each, so after a hundred years of refining, both of us would have an ace up our sleeves."
"At that time, I thought, with your strength so weak, you might die early, leaving me alone in this world, which would really be meaningless."
"So, I took a wisp of your Essence Blood and Divine Soul and merged it into the seed, refining it to this day, for three hundred and seventy-four years."
In his palm, another glowing red lotus seed appeared.
Immortal Baimei's body shook with disbelief as he looked at the blood lotus seed.
At that moment, he finally understood why so many people swore to follow this rogue cultivator of Qi practicing to the death, without complaints or regrets.
A secret move for resurrection!
What do cultivators toil and strive for over so many years of cultivation?
Is it not immortality!
Such a critical lifeline, refined with hundreds of years of heart's blood, all for a brother not related by blood.
It completely defied common sense!
However, generally speaking, such resurrection secrets could hardly be used consecutively twice...
Immortal Baimei remembered some texts from the adventures of the Qiyu Ancestor Master, he opened his mouth, then closed it again, not daring to interrupt the clearly somewhat crazed Blood Cloud.
Yet some feared not and held no taboos.
"Chieftain! You must not do this!"
A burly man with a beard stepped forward, a blood spear emanating fierce energy from behind him, and said in a deep voice, "This soul fragment of Second Brother is extremely frail and beyond salvation. Dead men cannot be resurrected. Please prioritize your own well-being."
"Bear in mind, you are not just one person. You are the linchpin of the lives and fortunes of all your brothers."
The Fourth General of Blood Cloud, the Blood Spear General!
Immortal Baimei's gaze flickered slightly.
This man, known throughout the Northern Plains as Hei Loushan, came from a collateral lineage of the Hei Clan. With exceptional natural talent, particularly adept at cavalry and army formation control, he was a latecomer who joined the Blood Cloud Eighteen Knights less than a hundred years ago, yet he rose to rank fourth.
At this moment, his words were blunt, bordering on reprimand.
"I am grieved by your brother's death," said Hei Loushan solemnly, "but among us brothers, countless parents, siblings, wives, and children have died under the persecution of Northern Plains families. We have had numerous moments of bitter tears."
"Should we give up for this reason?"
His words were direct, he did not call each other brothers or swear oaths of brotherhood.
Everyone risked their necks in life-or-death situations, chasing after the Nascent Soul. Emotions mattered, but it was also a union of interests.
The surrounding Golden Pill Monks were startled, not understanding the context.
Why suddenly talk of giving up? What was this about?
Others, however, changed color dramatically, turning abruptly to look at Blood Cloud, staring fixedly at him as a trace of anger appeared.
Even as the threads of hope were shattered, a barely detectable murderous intent surged tumultuously within their hearts.
"Fourth Brother, you speak too harshly," said Blood Cloud, sensing the intense emotional changes in his subordinates, and spoke calmly, "To resurrect once more will only cost me two hundred years of my life energy. Counting the Life Extension Elixirs, I have seventy-seven years left, enough to pursue the Great Dao of the Nascent Soul."
Disappointment was evident in Hei Loushan as he bowed slightly and took a step back.
Seventy-seven years left,
The rapid depletion of life energy in such a short time was sure to have a great impact on forming the Nascent Soul.
There might have been a forty or fifty percent chance before, but now, even ten to twenty percent would be a stroke of extreme luck.
Around them, the Blood Cloud Cavalry remained silent.
This man, indeed, valued his relationships.
But he did not have the makings of a great leader.
They had abandoned their families, allowed their kin to be slaughtered by the Northern Plains families, gone through countless separations and losses, and had been pursuing the Nascent Soul Dao for hundreds of years.
One could say Blood Cloud's Nascent Soul was not solely his anymore; it symbolized the Great Dao hopes of countless people!
And now, for one man on the brink of death, he mercilessly trampled on these hopes and the lifetime of efforts of others.
In doing so, should they still praise him for his deep sense of camaraderie?
When their children, wives, and parents were dying, were they not sad? Did they not feel?
Heh, only you value sentimentality.
Only you have such feelings, while we are but ruthless Demon Cultivators, devoid of such emotions.
How do you stop someone who fears not even death?!