Finish It With the Axe

"No! It has been so many years. I drained my spirit blood, exhausted my spirit for it…My supreme treasure for the great Dao!"

A thousand-miles-lone-thick vine suddenly straightened up, covered in mucus as it squirmed and transformed into a giant clone of Pan Heng, its eyes fixed on the axe in front of Ji Hao while screaming.

Pan Heng sounded so shrill and sad, like a gray-haired concubine who was forgotten by her emperor; her voice was filled with hatred and sadness. Hearing Pan Heng, Ji Hao's fine hair even stood up.

"Supreme treasure for the great Dao?" In Ji Hao's spiritual space, the mysterious man, who was a bit hazy, chuckled, "This idiot chose to devour the others' blood and flesh to replenish herself. Yet, she attempted to attain her great Dao with Pan Gu's axe of killing? What a silly woman."

Carefully, Ji Hao reached his hand to the axe.