Chapter 1287. Dirty Saint Fan
When Han Sen saw Saint Fan absorb every living being in the shelter, he was taken aback. He was going to grab the spirit stone while the silver fox kept it busy, but that didn’t seem a likely possibility now.
“All right, we’ll do this the old-fashioned way.” Han Sen drew Taia and his Phoenix Sword.
The silver fox and Purple Emperor flew up high, ready to swoop. Serpent Throne had taken on the form of the chef, straight from Hell’s Kitchen. She was ready to slice and dice whichever foe came her way, like Satan’s personal butcher.
Little Angel, Disloyal Knight, Xie Qing King, Dry Bone King, Qing Xun King, Thorn Queen, Blue Dinosaur, Metal Eater, and even Moment Queen now rushed forward like the light brigade. They were to be a merciless wave of death and destruction.
Saint Fan had absorbed a ludicrous number of creatures, spirits, and other lifeforms, but against the wrath of three emperors, not even he was sure he could triumph. The tides had turned on him.
The silver fox gathered up a large charge of lightning, and tried to fry Saint Fan’s body with it. Purple Emperor lopped off a large chunk of Saint Fan’s fleshy, bulbous body. The strike was so clean, it could not regenerate. The chef’s cleaver peeled fine slices of the spirit’s wretched biomass off, like strips of beef, ready to be thrown into a hotpot.
Han Sen didn’t do half as much as he was expected to, and he was more-or-less like an onlooker, observing Saint Fan’s beating.
But suddenly, Saint Fan’s original form began to take shape. He spoke, stern and sullen, to say, “Han Sen, are you really going to kill me?”
“You are already dead,” Han Sen said.