An iron spear had cheated the Violet Fate Sect disciples.

A silver spear had cheated Sun Hua and Liu Daoyun, and had caused friction between two great Sects.

If Fatty's father knew about this, his eyes would definitely grow wide. The iron, silver and gold spears were crafted by his artisans.

If Fatty had a chance to hear about it, he would definitely find it incredibly amusing.

Meng Hao hadn't even known how useful the silver spear would be. The people from the Winding Stream Sect and the Cold Wind Sect had already stopped chasing him. And now, even if they wanted to pursue him, they wouldn't be able to track him down.

And yet, his face was as grim as before. He stood on the treasured fan, popping down Demonic Cores. Ding Xin pursued him on his giant leaf, his face cold. In order to kill Meng Hao, he would follow him to the ends of the earth if necessary.

If it was a simple pursuit, Meng Hao would be able to lead him around in circles, considering his vast amount of Demonic Cores. But he was seriously injured, which made things difficult. The Demonic Cores were just barely enough to keep him going.

He could suppress the injury for a while, but eventually he would reach the point where he couldn't. When that happened, the injury would become even more dangerous.

Even more frustrating, an occasional arrow would scream toward him from behind, forcing him to use the treasured fan to defend himself. The most dangerous position was when he reached the end of a glide and had to drop to the ground and run, decreasing his speed and agility. Thankfully, the land was mostly covered by forests, and by the time he reached the top of next mountain in his path, he would be able to jump onto the treasured fan again.

Of course, Ding Xin was also incapable of sustained flight. Just like Liu Daoyun, he also had to drop to the ground occasionally, waiting to find some favorable terrain to once again begin gliding.

"You can't get away," said Ding Xin with a smile, his eyes glittering. "If you give up without a fight, I can take you back to the Sect and let them deal with you."

"There are some special circumstances regarding the matter between myself and the Violet Fate Sect," said Meng Hao as he continued to speed forward. "Fellow Daoist Ding, do you understand what I mean?"

"I don't need to understand," he responded coolly, his eyes growing colder. "If I take you back to the Sect, the Sect Elders will surely punish you. The Violet Fate Sect is one of the great sects of the Southern Domain. Naturally, they will be reasonable, and discern what is true and false."

"What happened that day was beyond my control," Meng Hao explained. "Qiu Shuihen and Lu Song forced me to sell my item. I told them it was just an ordinary spear, but they insisted. They even threatened me! You can't put the blame on me for that!" Having reached the top of a relatively high hill, he pulled out the treasured fan and began to glide once again.

"How could the fault not be yours?" said Ding Xin, his voice as cold as ever. He continued to move forward with great speed. "You could have broken the spear on the spot, then pulled out the real treasure. Then none of this would have happened." He slapped his bag of holding, and a black wooden bow appeared in his hands. He pulled it back and released a screaming arrow toward Meng Hao.

There was a boom as Meng Hao used a magical item to defend himself. Coughing up blood, he laughed. The blood on his teeth made his smile even more ferocious.

"This is your so-called 'being reasonable?'" he said. His eyes shone with killing intent, and he didn't say anything more. Swallowing a Demonic Core, he pushed the treasured fan forward even faster.

Several hours passed. Afternoon came, then evening. Meng Hao was exhausted, but he could see that this pursuit might go on for days. He could see from the cold eyes of the person chasing him that he was ruthlessly toying with him.

He was prey, not to be killed forthrightly, but to be toyed with. Then, even as he began to go crazy from it all, he would be felled in a single blow.

The land of the State of Zhao whizzed beneath Meng Hao and Ding Xin. Time passed. Meng Hao's Cultivation base of the eighth level of Qi Condensation was at the point that it seemed about to wither up. He continually consumed Demonic Cores, but that in itself was harming his body. Even his blood seemed to reek with a Demonic air.

To a Cultivator, this was essentially intentionally harming one's own Cultivation base. Meng Hao had never heard of this before, but based on what he was seeing, he now had a clue. And yet, he had no choice.

As for Ding Xin, he had noticed what was happening, so had intentionally slowed his pursuit. An inquisitive look had appeared in his eyes, as if he had caught sight of some interesting toy.

"I really want to see what happens when you consume so many Demonic Cores that your entire aura becomes Demonic? When I kill you, will I find an eighth-level Demonic Core inside?" Ding Xin laughed.

Meng Hao heard his words, and more veins of blood appeared in his eyes. His face grew somber.

He was not the type of person to speak a lot during a fight. Just now he had tried to explain himself, only to find out that his opponent didn't care. After that, he didn't say a single word. This was just like the time he had faced up against Wang Tengfei. He had not roared or howled; he had faced everything with dark silence.

He continued to flee for some time, pushing himself to the limits of his speed. Finally, up ahead, he caught sight of Mount Daqing. He had been hiding away for about half a year, and had finally come back to the mountain again, a big circle.

As he continued on, he could see a vast, mirror-like lake off in the distance. It was the North Sea.

When he saw it, his eyes suddenly lit up.

"The North Sea…."

Meng Hao thought of the little ship, the old man and the young girl, and about how the North Sea had revealed the Dao!

His gaze grew hard, and he changed his direction, aiming for the lake.

He sped along on his treasured fan. Behind him, Ding Xin sneered. He had quite enjoyed forcing his quarry to continuously consume Demonic Cores.

"I'm not sure why this guy has so many Demonic Cores, but it doesn't matter. I'll force him to tell me before he dies. In any case, I really want to see what his body looks like after he eats too many." He smiled, stamping down on his giant leaf and continuing on in pursuit.

The two of them continued on for a while, until suddenly a booming sound rang out in the air. Just as they flew out over the surface of the North Sea, Meng Hao slapped his bag of holding, then tossed out the black net.

It immediately grew out to a diameter of approximately nine meters and shot toward Ding Xin. Ding Xin immediately flicked his wide sleeve, and a violet-colored jade slip flew out, which transformed into a violet whirlwind. The whirlwind sent the net spinning. Its connection with Meng Hao seemed to have been severed, and it flew off into the distance.

"Using a useless treasure like that shows how incompetent you are," said Ding Xin coldly. The net appeared to be extraordinary, so he had used the jade slip just now. He'd never imagined that it would be defeated in one move.

Meng Hao's eyes flashed. He bit down on his tongue and then spit out some blood. His face was even paler than before. As he moved across the surface of the North Sea, the water began to ripple as if a fierce wind were blowing across it. Its calmness had been broken.

The treasured fan stopped when he reached the center of the lake. It was the first time since Ding Xin had begun chasing him that he came to a full stop. He turned around, slapping his bag of holding, and the scroll painting appeared in his hands. His eyes glittered, emanating killing intent.

He would flee no longer. He would fight with Ding Xin, Cultivator of the ninth level of Qi Condensation!

Meng Hao was not in the upper hand, but he would fight. He had to fight. He couldn't carry on much longer, so if he didn't fight, he would die. There was only one option… fight!

"So, you're not running anymore," said Ding Xin as he approached. A sneer appeared on his face when he saw the look of murder in Meng Hao's eyes. He waved his finger, and instantly a violet light appeared in front of him which transformed in a bird. It flapped its wings as it shot toward Meng Hao.

Meng Hao's eyes flashed. The instant the violet-colored bird appeared, the scroll painting trembled, and the sounds of roaring beasts could be heard. Meng Hao went all in with his Cultivation base. Perhaps because of the vast quantities of Demonic power within his spiritual energy, the roars of the beasts were particularly frightening. Four streams of mist appeared, solidifying into four Demonic beasts which charged toward the violet-colored bird.

At the same time, Meng Hao took a step forward. The treasured fan beneath his feet disassembled, the feathers circulating around him and then shooting toward Ding Xin like flying swords.

Meng Hao didn't retreat. A flying sword appeared beneath his feet to support him, and he himself shot toward Ding Xin.

"You overestimate yourself," said Ding Xin with a cold laugh, his eyes filled with ridicule. His right hand flickered in incantation patterns and then he pressed down on his forehead. A vortex emerged, accompanied by a roaring sound.

"Violet Fate Aura!"

Dense Violet Qi poured out from within the vortex, instantly transforming into a violet-colored ring, which expanded, and then flew toward Meng Hao.

Thunderous sounds continued to reverberate, causing the feathers around Meng Hao to crumble and collapse. As the massive sound roared out, it caused him to vomit up blood. And yet, stubborness filled his eyes. He slapped his bag of holding, and roughly one hundred flying swords emerged, shooting toward Ding Xin.

The sword rain screamed forth, filling the sky. The light from the sword auras filled the sky. The swords reached Ding Xin in an instant, and yet his sneer grew thicker.

"So reckless," he said, slapping his bag of holding. A red beam emerged, transforming into a red-colored whisk. He twirled the whisk, and a screaming red gust of wind appeared which cracked the nearly one hundred flying swords. Many of them simply shattered.

The wind gust smacked into Meng Hao, and he coughed up more blood. But then, within the fragments of the hundred flying swords, appeared two wooden swords. They flew out, piercing through the red wind and shooting toward Ding Xin.

Ding Xin's eyes narrowed. His fingers flashed in incantation signs as he shot backwards.

Meng Hao lifted his right hand into the air, his face radiating killing intent.

His finger pointed up, and suddenly the black net which had been spinning away moments ago, expanded to a size of thirty meters, then dropped down with incredible speed.

All of this takes quite a bit of time to describe, but all happened in the space of just a moment. Ding Xin's expression changed instantaneously. Before he could react, the huge net had caught him up. The two wooden swords shot toward him, and it seemed they would stab into his chest.

It was a simple tactic that had just occurred to Meng Hao. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best he could come up with on the spur of the moment. He had even used the feathers of the treasured fan and sacrificed the multitude of flying swords in an attempt to catch his opponent off guard. He had done it all for one purpose: to distract his opponent. And it had worked.