A massive wind circle materialized around Xiao Yifeng, dragging countless streams of Yin energy into its vortex. The air howled like a banshee. With him as the epicenter, a vacuum formed, threatening to devour everything in its vicinity.
As the gale intensified, nearby ghosts were inexorably pulled toward Xiao Yifeng. Yet, they could not touch him; a terrifying barrier of compressed wind shielded him, a wall too dense to breach.
The ten Golden Core ghosts found themselves in a bind. They couldn't escape the suction, but they couldn't advance either. To press forward was to be shredded by the escalating wind pressure within the eye of the storm.
Their attacks were futile, merely feeding kinetic energy into the vortex, effectively pinning them in place.
This was the Nine-Fold Wind Jade—a premier wind-attribute Golden Core technique of the Wentian Sect. It was a bizarre art that perfectly integrated offense and defense. Unless an enemy could shatter the outer barrier with a single, overwhelming strike, the winds would only grow stronger, compounding until the user released the accumulated power in a devastating burst.
Hovering several meters above the ground, Xiao Yifeng chanted rapidly. He hadn't expected the ambient Yin winds of the Wild Ghost Village to be so potent; they fueled the Nine-Fold Wind Jade effortlessly, condensing around him as if answering a call.
Slowly, Xiao Yifeng began to move. He drifted toward Mo Shuiyao, dragging the captive ghosts along like a chained prisoner train.
The eight ghosts surrounding Mo Shuiyao noticed the anomaly immediately. But paralyzed by the pressure, they could only watch helplessly as the disaster approached. As the wind sphere grazed the edge of their formation, one of the ghosts maintaining the encirclement was ripped from its position and sucked into Xiao Yifeng’s orbit.
The formation shattered instantly.
A terrifying hurricane swept over the remaining ghosts. They struggled against the immense suction, standing stiffly in place as if frozen, unable to twitch a muscle. They could only watch as Xiao Yifeng drew closer, the wind force compounding with every second, the Yin-charged gales flaying their spectral forms.
Only the Ghost King, powerful and resilient, retained the strength to move. Roaring, it gripped its massive sword and prepared to charge at Xiao Yifeng.
Mo Shuiyao’s gaze flickered between Xiao Yifeng and the approaching Ghost King. A dark thought crossed her mind: Should I use him as bait to attract their fire and flee right now?
Xiao Yifeng seemed to peer straight into her soul. He said nothing, merely locking eyes with her as he continued to channel his technique.
Fortunately, Mo Shuiyao abandoned the idea. She chose to intercept the Ghost King, entangling the monster to prevent it from disrupting Xiao Yifeng’s casting.
The winds between heaven and earth grew apocalyptic. Wandering souls from miles away were dragged into the fray. Debris from the entire village—broken tiles, rotting timber, even uprooted trees—levitated and flew into the grinding sphere around Xiao Yifeng.
Once activated, this technique became a self-sustaining monster, continuously devouring the surrounding airflow. Xiao Yifeng was beginning to lose control.
He smiled bitterly. I really couldn't help myself. I used another Golden Core technique.
Realizing he was at his limit, he manipulated the colossal wind sphere to crush down upon the Ghost King. The monster was slammed into the earth by the sheer atmospheric pressure, pinned and unable to move, its claws digging into the ground in a desperate bid to resist the suction.
Mo Shuiyao, who was also within the area of effect, jumped in fright. Is this bastard planning to kill me too?
Suddenly, Xiao Yifeng roared, "Fairy Mo, ignore the Ghost King! Use your Flower Sea Secret Art! Combine it with my storm to crush them, then we escape!"
Mo Shuiyao glanced at him, then made a split-second decision. She gave up her resistance and allowed the wind to pull her toward him.
Sure enough, as she neared the eye of the storm, the winds parted, leaving her unharmed.
Safely inside Xiao Yifeng’s barrier, Mo Shuiyao unleashed her technique with full force. Waves of intoxicating fragrance permeated the air as countless razor-sharp petals flooded into Xiao Yifeng’s wind stream.
The world became a blur of gray wind and pink blossoms. The Yin winds now carried a deadly payload—dense, swirling petals hidden within the gusts.
The weaker ghosts that had been sucked in were instantly shredded, dissolving upon contact with the petal-infused storm. Even the Golden Core ghosts shrieked in agony as the petals flayed their spiritual bodies, smoke rising from their wounds.
The synergy between their secret arts was terrifyingly effective. Xiao Yifeng’s Yin wind provided the crowd control and suppression, while Mo Shuiyao’s petals provided the high-damage lethality that his wind lacked.
It was a seamless cooperation. Mo Shuiyao watched the destruction, a strange light shimmering in her beautiful eyes.
Finally, the wind and petals merged completely, forming massive, pink-hued spheres of destruction.
Blood trickled from the corner of Xiao Yifeng’s mouth; the strain was tearing him apart. With a guttural cry, he slashed his sword downward.
Boom!
The massive wind spheres detonated. Terrifying blades of compressed air and floral energy exploded outward, slicing in every direction. The remaining wandering souls were instantly bisected.
Then, like an avalanche, layer upon layer of shockwaves expanded from Xiao Yifeng, each stronger than the last. The wind sphere around him shrank rapidly as he expelled its power.
With a final swing of his sword, the last of the energy was released. The hurricanes detonated like bombs, obliterating what remained of the village.
When the dust settled and the winds dispersed, a massive crater scarred the earth. The village was gone, replaced by deep gouges in the soil.
The initial group of Golden Core ghosts had been minced into fragments. In the distance, the Ghost King and a few Late Golden Core survivors lay on the ground, gasping for breath, their forms flickering and bloodied.
Mo Shuiyao made a move to finish them off, but Xiao Yifeng shouted, "Go!"
Without waiting, he transformed into a streak of light and fled. Mo Shuiyao hesitated for a heartbeat, then chose to follow him.
Moments after they vanished, a figure emerged from the void above the ruined battlefield.
It was a woman in a daringly exposed red dress, holding a pitch-black longsword. She walked toward the recovering Ghost King and the surviving entities, a chilling smile curling her lips.
The stunning woman raised her sword. A vortex erupted from the blade, sucking the terrified Ghost Kings directly into the weapon. She then casually collected their Dharma Treasures, transformed into a stream of light, and vanished in the direction Xiao Yifeng had fled.
After flying for some distance, Xiao Yifeng reached his limit. He summoned Little Bing and landed heavily on the beast’s head. Sitting cross-legged, he popped a recovery pill from his Storage Ring into his mouth.
Mo Shuiyao chuckled lightly, landing gracefully beside him on Little Bing's broad back. "We owe our lives to Fellow Daoist Wuchen this time. Are you heavily injured?"
"Mn. My spiritual power is severely depleted," Xiao Yifeng admitted, nodding. "I'm afraid I won't be able to fight for a short while. I'll have to trouble Fairy to act as my Dharma Protector."
Mo Shuiyao paused, taken aback. She couldn't read him. Was he telling the truth, or was this another layer of deception?
She smiled sweetly. "In that case, Fellow Daoist Wuchen can rest assured and recover. This servant will guard you with her life."
Xiao Yifeng nodded as if he had absolutely no guard against her, closed his eyes, and began to regulate his breathing.
His blatant vulnerability only deepened Mo Shuiyao’s suspicion. Xiao Yifeng had always been wary of her; how could he be so careless now? She didn't dare to act rashly.
Cold light flashed in Mo Shuiyao’s eyes several times, her hand twitching near her weapon, but she hesitated.
As they flew, stray evil ghosts occasionally attacked. Mo Shuiyao intercepted most of them, but she deliberately let one or two slip past her defense, allowing them to rush toward the meditating Xiao Yifeng.
Swish!
Before the ghosts could even touch him, a streak of sword light erupted from the void beside him.
The sword light was exceptionally sharp, slicing through the ghosts as easily as cutting melons. Mo Shuiyao couldn't even see where the attack had come from.
This guy is indeed cunning, she thought, a chill running down her spine. He's deliberately luring me to attack him. His 'weakness' is a feint. If I had fallen for it, I would be the one dead right now.
Mo Shuiyao secretly congratulated herself for her prudence.
She had no idea that the sword light came from the Zhan Xian sword spirit, which had just returned invisibly to its master. It had nothing to do with Xiao Yifeng’s current state. While Zhan Xian had a natural suppression against ghosts, against a cultivator like Mo Shuiyao, it wouldn't have been nearly enough to save him.