The two ghosts encircling the four lunged again at the Azure Vine. Massive Yin Qi rolled toward the vines like tumbling black clouds pressing down. In moments, the green fluorescence on the vines dimmed, and the light grew darker.
“Boom—”
“Boom—”
“Boom—”
…
Over a dozen thuds of heavy objects crashing to the ground rang out in succession. Bone-piercing Yin Fiend Aura surged from the hall. This Yin Qi was thicker than black smoke, sweeping in overwhelmingly. In the blink of an eye, it crashed onto the Azure Vine.
The Azure Vine, originally about three meters square, rapidly shrank, collapsing to just one meter in an instant.
Zhang Qingshui’s face drained of color as she cried out, “Wang Ya, I can’t hold it! Use the Yin Spirit Scroll!”
Wang Ya truly feared the flower demon in the Yin Scroll and refused to use it. Her feet swiftly shifted in place as her hands rapidly formed seals. She roared, “Tiangang Four Symbols—Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, Azure Dragon, White Tiger—Four Spirits Body Protection!” As her voice fell, she stomped the ground hard, making the surrounding air tremble. The surging Yin Qi recoiled over a meter. She stood firmly, feeling power flood her limbs, her eyes shining like stars and moons.
Wang Ya sneered mockingly. “Zhang Qingshui, why wail so miserably? They’re just a few strong ghosts!” If humans came at her, she’d run—that was because killing invited state retribution, and she, a commoner, couldn’t afford a murder charge. But if ghosts bullied her and she ran, she might as well not live!
A paper person stood beside Old Tang. He gripped his Tang Dao tightly and said gravely, “Wang Ya, whether we survive today depends on you! Please, no matter what, help me bring A’qi back alive.” As he spoke, he couldn’t help glancing at Wang Ya twice, thinking to himself, “A Feng Family Descendant truly has some skill.” He had thought her earlier actions were inviting a deity, but her expression remained normal without the dazed mind of possession—yet he clearly sensed immense power emanating from her.
Huang Qi cried, “Martial Uncle!”
Old Tang glanced at Huang Qi and said, “Listen—run if there’s a chance!”
Huang Qi’s brows furrowed, her expression unusually fierce. “We came together; we go back together!”
Zhang Qingshui scolded, “Little Qi, don’t be foolish! Once Old Tang breaks the door’s restriction, we’ll hold these ghosts—you run immediately. Save whoever we can.”
As they spoke, the Yin Qi surged again toward the Azure Vine.
Wang Ya removed the Seven Ancient Copper Coins from the Ghost Collecting Bell and slapped them onto the ground, arranging them into the Big Dipper Seven Stars Formation over the Azure Vine. The incoming Yin Qi was forced back again, halted over a meter away as if blocked by an invisible wall of air. Wang Ya said to Huang Qi, “Stay in the Big Dipper Seven Stars Formation and don’t leave. Remember to transfer three hundred thousand to my account when we get back—ah, no, make it thirty!”
Old Tang let out a long sigh of relief. “No problem. Wang Ya, are you confident?” Just as he finished, Wang Ya leaped out of the Big Dipper Seven Stars Formation and charged into the thick Yin Qi.
Zhang Qingshui scoffed lightly. “She really is money-obsessed!” She quickly scanned the surroundings. “Old Tang, let’s break the door’s restriction first!”
Wang Ya took two steps out of the Big Dipper Seven Stars Formation and suddenly soared over two meters high. A white light resembling a White Tiger appeared on her body. She thrust out both fists like a pouncing tiger, smashing toward a black shadow reeking of rot ahead. Her fists hammered the shadow’s chest, forcing it back a step. She advanced, unleashing a barrage of over a dozen solid slaps—”crack crack”—onto its chest. Then her palms flipped, and she slammed both out again, squarely hitting the ghost’s chest and sending it flying. Wang Ya drew the Ghost Collecting Bell and stepped forward to capture it, but several black shadows closed in rapidly, forcing her to dodge. The shadows were fast and fierce, whistling with sharp wind as they broke through.
Wang Ya didn’t dare slack. She stepped into formation positions, hands swiftly forming a seal, and slapped at the incoming ghost shadows. Each palm struck true, like hitting a thousand-jin weight. Wang Ya had learned ghost capture from Grandma since childhood and subdued plenty of demons and ghosts, but ones like these were a first. These ghosts hadn’t shed their corpses; they cultivated with bodies intact, like wearing sturdy armor. They couldn’t be dispersed by slaps and even dared fist-fight the Ghost Collecting Bell strung with ancient coins. The one she’d hit earlier should have been shattered or gravely injured by rights, yet it flipped in mid-air as if unharmed and pounced again.
