Cousin Uncle shuffled toward her step by step, his murky, lifeless eyes fixed on Wang Ya as he cried, “Ya Ya, my head’s smashed open—can you take a look for me?”
The living and the dead parted ways, and he wasn’t close kin—just a violently killed Ferocious Ghost controlled by the Old Ghost. Wang Ya ignored his pleas. Out of relatives’ sake, she didn’t want to disperse him outright and instead flung the Ghost-Capturing Copper Bell at her Cousin Uncle.
The bell halted a foot from Cousin Uncle, blocked by an invisible force. Then, figures materialized beside him—ghosts of those recently killed violently. They arrayed orderly ahead, forming a Yin Fiend Array! One fresh Ferocious Ghost was no threat, nor ten, but dozens in a Yin Fiend Array? Even their mere Evil Qi was beyond ordinary sorcerers.
The ghosts closed in on Wang Ya step by step, reaching out to grab her.
A voice drifted from afar: “Wang Ya… Wang Ya…” It wailed plaintively, like a dull axe scraping the ear, making Wang Ya’s skin crawl. She itched to rush over and strangle it. She nearly bellowed, “Soul Calling, huh!” but suddenly realized—this was a ghost calling her soul. Answering would let it summon hers. So remember: with unclean things, never let them know your name, or you’ll fall into their trap!
In that moment of distraction, the ghosts surged forward with chilling Evil Qi. Ghost jostled ghost, hand pressed hand—over a hundred ghost hands clawed at Wang Ya, some even baring teeth to bite.
Danger imminent, Wang Ya stepped according to the Tai Chi Array pattern. She shook the Ghost-Capturing Copper Bell in one hand and slapped at the ghosts with the other. Normally, these days-old New Ghosts were fragile; the bell alone would destabilize their Divine Souls, and a slap would scatter or deform them for ages. But now, her slap dispersed a mass of Yin Fiend soul qi—only for it to reform instantly, claws reaching again.
Protected by the Seven Ancient Copper Coins, ghost claws hitting Wang Ya’s body sizzled like wax to flame, melting away without injury. But their touch sent Yin Qi drilling through skin to bones, freezing veins—icy cold, draining vitality. Fortunately, the Tai Chi Array steps circulated heavenly primordial qi through her body, dispersing the invading Yin Qi. It couldn’t fully purge it yet, but kept her safe for now.
Still, Wang Ya’s plight was dire. Encircled like dumplings by dozens of ghosts, ghost shadows snarled and lunged from all sides—clawing, biting, scratching. She lost count of strikes and bites; her body felt like a leaky, battered house, wind pouring in everywhere. Soon, cold made her teeth chatter, limbs numb. Ants could kill an elephant—even minutes more, and these ghosts would wear her down alive! She was mired; they wouldn’t scatter, wouldn’t flee, infiltrating everywhere.
Desperate, Wang Ya stomped hard, rooting herself. Eyes closed, she focused, muttering incantations. Her voice was soft but rapid, buzzing like mosquitoes, resonating with the air, lending her solemn dignity. Fingers flew through seals, ten digits shifting till palms pressed root-to-root, fingers curved in arcs like a blooming Yellow Springs Other Shore Flower. Suddenly, she bellowed, “Yin and yang divided, Yellow Springs Ferry, living stay away, undead hasten! Depart!” With “Depart!” rang out powerfully, her hands shifted—curled fingers unfurled, bursting pent-up force like a flower blooming to full extremity.
Wang Ya kept eyes shut, pose held. During seals, she’d felt inner qi resonate and link with ambient Yin Qi. Between palms, qi condensed; incantation and seal released it in fusion. Air quaked with mighty vibration and eerie wind; she clearly heard Ferocious Ghosts swept away like leaves in gale.
It happened in twenty or thirty seconds.
Wang Ya stood still seconds more till yin winds stilled, then opened her eyes. Faint Yin Qi lingered, but surrounding Ferocious Ghosts were gone. Many Heavenly Soul Spiritual Lights rose like fireflies toward the sky. She’d seen death, seen souls’ starry glimmers ascend post-mortem—but never so many, swarms dancing upward like fireflies to heavenly realms. Beautiful, moving—yet forty-plus lives! Just a week ago, living people!
Wang Ya sensed eyes on her from ahead. Looking up, she saw the Ancient Old Ghost, cane in hand, under a streetlamp six or seven meters away, staring. Lamplight on her vanished into darkness, swallowed whole. She was barely 1.5 meters tall, yet she loomed like a massive dark beast, a terrifying abyss—oppressive, fearsome. In one short week, Wang Ya felt her far stronger, more terrifying than before. She took a deep breath to steady, locked eyes, and shouted, “Dead Old Lady, forty or fifty lives—you’ve piled up quite the sins, haven’t you?”
The Ancient Old Ghost stared piercingly, as if peering through her. After a pause, she said sinisterly, “Little girl, cocky with some skill—too young, too naive! Since you’re here, stay and keep this old one company.”
