The Iron-Winged Hawk did not hold back in its assault, its talons gleaming like shards of obsidian as it descended with lethal precision.
Even then, Xiao Ming was practically immobilized, his body battered and his spirit teetering on the edge of collapse.
A trace of shock flickered through the hawk's cold, predatory eyes. It was baffled—how could a mere cultivator at the Spirit Condensation realm withstand such a devastating attack?
The hawk's origin energy surged through its talons, severing a fraction of Xiao Ming's vitality. Though the damage was not fatal, his life force flickered like a dying flame, blurry and unstable.
The Iron-Winged Hawk let out a piercing screech, its hunger gnawing at its instincts. It soared back into the sky, circling high above like a shadow of death, its eyes locked onto its prey.
SCREE!
Its target was Xiao Ming, who now stood with a weakened posture, his hands numb and trembling.