Chapter Thirty: Ghostly Paper Figurines, Guardian Deities

Boom!
The toad demon kicked the ground, causing spiderweb-like cracks to spread across its surface.
Beneath the fissures lay a yawning, pitch-black pit.
Inside the pit rested countless skeletons.
Some bones were weathered, others pristine and flawless, even bearing flesh yet to rot.
Clearly, many had not been buried long.
This toad demon had claimed untold lives.
Having escaped the illusion, the group now faced even more powerful adversaries.
These foes, whether human or demon, lurked within the black mist, appearing and vanishing at will.
Every so often, a beam of moonlit brilliance shot from their bodies.
Swifter than flame, deadlier still.
It corroded everything it touched.
At the instant the spell was cast, the group seemed to witness a radiant moon rising.
In a flash, petals rained from the sky and exotic fragrances filled the air.
The moon, resplendent and beautiful, tempted all to abandon everything and follow its light.
“Beware, this is the Moon-Chasing Manifestation, a secret technique of the Sect of Fragrant Wonders. Its aroma ensnares the soul—friend and foe alike are lost, kin forgotten, all at the mercy of another's command.”
The Abbot of the Five Elements Monastery spoke urgently.
No sooner had he finished than Wan Ming, as elusive as a ghost, appeared behind him.
Moonlight gleamed from his blade, which pierced the Abbot’s heart.
“Ah!”
The Abbot cried out, dissolving into black smoke.
One of the Five Ghosts assumed his form.
Only four ghosts remained; the fifth would never return, having become a scapegoat.
“Beast, take my blade! Roar!”
After a long silence, Yan Xinglie suddenly bellowed.
His shout shook the forest, birds and beasts fled; he resembled the tiger, king of the wilds.
This burly, black-faced man bit a burning incense stick, a red cloth tied around his brow. With a mighty stroke, he repelled Wan Ming.
“Tiger God, aid me!”
Yan Xinglie swallowed the incense, his tiger’s roar thundered across the land.
His body grew coarse tiger fur, sharp as steel needles, and a blood-red “king” character appeared faintly on his forehead.
He stood like a man-shaped tiger.
Han Bingli drew her snowy, translucent sword, its blade singing as it reflected a majestic white dragon.
A storm of icy sword energy swept toward the toad demon.
She and Yu Ci together engaged the demon, forcing it into a battle of skill.
Jin Ying, emerging from her grief, now faced a Guardian of the Qi Cultivation stage.
Tang Bing, the Ghost Mother, commanded dozens of specters in a struggle against another powerful foe.
Yan Xinglie tried to pursue Wan Ming but was blocked by the last of the three Guardians.
The situation grew increasingly tense; Han Bingli was struggling, gradually falling behind.
Whether the deadlock could be broken depended on whether the others could defeat their opponents first and offer support.
Otherwise, all would perish.
Lu Qian, for his part, became something of an outsider.
As he prepared to lend aid, a faint sword’s song sounded behind him, a chill stinging his back.
Wan Ming’s ghostly figure emerged once more, this time with Lu Qian as his target.

“So, you choose the softest fruit to squeeze? I wonder who is truly soft,” Lu Qian sneered inwardly.
Buzz!
A sword talisman flew from his sleeve, a three-foot blue radiance shot forth.
The Three-Kill Yin Talisman Sword arced through the air, aiming for Wan Ming behind him.
“Hmm?” Sensing the sword’s intent aimed at his brow, Wan Ming was momentarily surprised, vanishing into the mist as the flying sword grazed past him.
“It seems your victory over Jin Ying wasn’t mere luck. Your cultivation is decent, but that’s all.” Wan Ming praised him.
Crash!
No sooner had he spoken than his sword blossomed with icy light, the glow splitting into dozens of crescent moons, descending from all directions.
Lu Qian extended his hand; four paper men transformed into blue smoke.
Four shield-bearing guards appeared at his side.
Clang, clang, clang!
Sword light struck their shields, sending sparks flying.
“Oh? So you have this move as well?” Wan Ming was surprised again, now taking Lu Qian seriously.
This seemingly ordinary, “soft” fellow had hidden powerful techniques.
Indeed, Lu Qian seemed far more unremarkable than the others.
Tang Bing, the weakest in cultivation, had proven herself with her Ghost Mother techniques—no one dared underestimate her now.
Even Wan Ming would not fare well if trapped among her ghosts.
Yan Xinglie, formerly the most low-key, had summoned the Tiger God, earning everyone’s respect.
Crash!
The Three-Kill Yin Talisman Sword broke through.
The scene was ablaze with light and magic, the battle fierce and wild.
Compared to this chaos, Lu Qian moved as if strolling in a garden.
Shielded by four guards and four bladesmen, he controlled his flying sword, occasionally launching a ghostly green flame to harry Wan Ming.
Compared to those fighting for their lives, Lu Qian seemed almost at leisure.
“Ah! You little wretch, I’ll kill you!”
Another flame struck, burning Wan Ming’s black hair away; he finally lost patience.
Bang!
His sword erupted with countless rays, real and illusory, disorienting all sense of place.
Visions appeared—horrors and temptations in endless succession.
A full moon rose on the horizon, its halo spreading, descending serenely.
A surge of energy locked onto Lu Qian.
This moon was Wan Ming’s killing technique—Moon-Chasing Manifestation.
When the moonlight fell and the energy enveloped, the moment the victim saw the moon, their death was assured.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
The paper men, touched by moonlight, dissolved into blue smoke.
A streak of icy brilliance hovered less than three inches from Lu Qian’s head as Wan Ming appeared, eyes mocking.
“You little wretch, to die to this move is a stroke of luck over three lifetimes.”
Then Wan Ming noticed that the man before him was calm, his gaze serene, nothing like one facing death.
“Not good!” Wan Ming was alarmed, his hair standing on end.
From Lu Qian’s sleeve, a dozen green-scaled snakes shot out, ghostly flames flickering on their heads.
They broke through the paper men and flying sword.
Wan Ming had not expected this hidden move from Lu Qian.
With Lu Qian so close, he could not escape in time.

“Ah!”
Snake fangs pierced flesh, ghost fire venom flooded Wan Ming’s body.
Wan Ming’s scream was so agonizing that all eyes turned to him.
Blood streamed from his seven orifices, ghost fire burned him from within, reducing him to ash.
“Ming-er!”
The toad demon roared in fury; had its gaze been lethal, Lu Qian would have been torn to pieces.
“Your opponent is me!” Yu Ci smiled, a flash of gold crossing her face.
Spurt!
Scarlet lung-gold sword energy poured onto her blade, her attack becoming fiercer.
Even so, the toad demon spewed a cloud of poison.
Lu Qian dodged in haste; where the poison landed, a ten-meter radius melted into pus.
“Taoist Tang, let me help you!” Lu Qian leapt to Tang Bing’s side.
Although Tang Bing could command ghosts, her shallow cultivation meant their power was limited.
If not for their numbers, she would have perished already.
With Lu Qian’s addition, they dispatched the remaining three Guardians one by one.
The toad demon howled in rage, held at bay by the pair.
“Die!”
The toad demon howled to the moon, gathering moonlight into a massive orb.
Boom!
The orb exploded, light blazing, stones flying.
Yu Ci and Han Bingli spat blood and were thrown back.
“You brat, you killed my servant; I’ll swallow you alive!”
The toad demon did not press its advantage.
Instead, it leapt for Lu Qian, its green eyes fixed on him with venomous hatred, making his scalp crawl.
Compared to the demon’s towering form, Lu Qian seemed as insignificant as an ant.
His paper shield guards were mere scraps before it.
In that moment, Lu Qian found himself in the most perilous situation of his life.
Facing death, he became even calmer, his mind racing.
Survive a single blow and he could escape.
But to withstand a direct strike from the toad demon’s immense body was no easy feat—at best, he would be crippled; at worst, dead.
The second option was a counterattack.
Lu Qian instantly devised a plan: eight paper talismans dissolved into blue smoke, transforming into paper men over a yard tall, guarding him.
“Taoist Tang, have your ghosts possess the paper men!”
Tang Bing hesitated briefly, then complied.
Whoosh!
A gust of yin wind swept by.
The paper men transformed, their papery bodies replaced by tall, muscular men of flesh and blood.
Over a yard in height, they radiated power—like divine guardian generals protecting a sage.
Paper men had bodies without souls; ghosts had souls without bodies.
Combined, they underwent a profound transformation.