Wang Ya noticed the two old men behind Zhang Qingshui staring intently at the scroll in her hand, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent, bodies tensed as if ready to snatch it. She glanced at the three people before her, then peered into the surrounding darkness.
Dawn was the darkest hour of the day, and this place brimmed with heavy Yin Qi, yet Wang Ya could still clearly sense countless gazes fixed on her—or rather, on the scroll in her hand—from the shadows.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swirled down from above. One of the old men beside Zhang Qingshui shouted and lunged forward, clashing palms with someone pouncing at Wang Ya. He retreated two or three steps, while the attacker fell back five or six meters before turning and fleeing into the darkness.
A brilliant smile bloomed on Wang Ya’s face as she thought, Oh, finally couldn’t hold back anymore?
With the first person making a move, dozens of footsteps soon thundered from afar. They moved at extreme speeds, and even the Evil Ghosts circling overhead dove down, straight for the scroll in Wang Ya’s hand.
Wang Ya shoved the scroll into her bag, swiftly drew two Conceal Qi Talismans—one slapping it on her own chest, the other on Wang Cheng’an’s. As for the two ghosts lunging at her, Wang Cheng’an punched them flying, one after the other.
Wang Ya grabbed Wang Cheng’an and bolted.
One of the old men behind Zhang Qingshui bellowed, “Leave the item!” and reached for the canvas shoulder bag on her back.
Wang Ya twisted aside nimbly, dodging the grab, then shot forward three or four meters, only to collide with someone charging at her. She circled around them deftly and continued running. She moved like lightning, covering dozens of meters in seconds, when suddenly Wang Cheng’an’s voice came from behind: “Yaya, wait for me!”
Wang Ya whipped her head around. On the rural road, at least thirty or forty people were tangled in a brawl—no doubt including her intellectually challenged father. Wang Ya cursed inwardly, Didn’t I tell you to stick close?
Wang Cheng’an shouted again:
“Don’t hit my face! I won’t be handsome anymore!”
“Ow, that hurts!”
“Yaya, where are you?”
“Yaya, don’t leave me behind!”
Wang Ya was about to rush back when several figures pounced toward her. She yelled, “Dad, I’m here—charge over!” Her feet moved in Taiji Array Positions as she began Forming Seals. But before the seal formed, people surged from front, back, left, and right, attacking simultaneously. Even an eel couldn’t dodge in such a barrage from all angles. Wang Ya could only protect her bag and took a kick squarely, flying through the air. She crashed heavily to the ground, feeling her bones and organs nearly shattered, pain forcing a muffled grunt from her lips. As she struggled to rise, someone reached for her. Just as their hand neared, another person charged in and kicked them flying. Then a cold gleam flashed—a killing intent straight at her brow. Wang Ya’s eyes widened in terror, thinking her end had come, but another whooshing sound rang out, followed by a crisp clang and a jarring shockwave that rolled her aside. Ahead, people clashed in combat.
Suddenly, a heavy whoosh of something breaking through the air reached her. Wang Ya quickly gathered her qi, raising her arm to block. A heavy staff struck her arm, drawing another pained grunt. She saw clearly now—it was a flying Ebony Staff. Spotting her mortal enemy, ignoring the pain, Wang Ya reached with her left hand to grab the Ebony Staff, her right dipping into her pocket for an Evil-Suppressing Talisman as she snapped, “Dead Old Lady, I’ve been looking for you!”
The Ebony Staff jerked back, evading her grasp, and another person lunged at her. Wang Ya kicked out, but the attacker was skilled, dodging agilely before palming toward the bag on her shoulder.
Zhang Qingshui’s voice suddenly rang out: “Fourth Uncle, Uncle Tang, protect Wang Ya! Second Uncle, grab Wang Cheng’an—hurry!” She shouted again, “Wang Ya, don’t be reckless!”
Right then, a man burst from beside Wang Ya, wielding something over a meter long, heavy and club-like. He swung it hard at the attacker, sending them flying sideways. More heavy whooshes followed, forcing back the three or four near Wang Ya. Catching her breath, she turned and saw it was Old Tang.
Wang Ya yelled, “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
Old Tang shouted back, “Not many experts showed up tonight—what’s there to fear from them!”
Wang Ya called out, a bit disappointed, “How come so few experts?” It’d be great to drag more down to the Underworld Courts.
Old Tang bellowed furiously, “You want more experts? With your skills and hot-headed temper, one would be enough to finish you! Lucky for you, the Ghost Family only spread word of your arrival at ten tonight—only local small fry could make it. Otherwise, you’d be done for.” He yelled on, but his hands didn’t slack: swinging his club-like weapon left and right, chopping and sweeping, forcing eight assailants to retreat. Old Tang led Wang Ya toward Wang Cheng’an’s position.
