"Oh my god!" Old Madam Fan’s pupils constricted to pinpricks, and she cried out involuntarily. Her old face, flushed crimson from exertion moments before, instantly turned the color of liver. That wasn't all; looking at the wrinkles covering her face, they seemed to have deepened considerably—so deep they could trap a fly, truly "bottomless."

In stark contrast, the female ghost’s body was pliant as a noodle, writhing and twisting as it drifted down from the rooftop. With just two undulations, it arrived beside Old Madam Fan. The strangest thing was that this ghost seemed molded from soft clay; boneless and limp from top to bottom. Now, the ghost’s body stretched longer and longer, adhering to the old woman like sticky taffy. Finally, the ghost contracted its form, wrapping Old Madam Fan up tightly, like a zongzi.

This entire process seemed complex, but to Young Master Liu, standing closest, every movement flashed by in the blink of an eye. With every twist the female ghost made, a crisp crack echoed from its joints. After six such sharp sounds ceased, the unfortunate Old Madam Fan was trussed up like a fattened pig ready for slaughter.

Seeing the deed done, the female ghost let out a chilling, spasmodic giggle, a sound as nauseating as little Yueyue pouting sweetly. Its voice was like a steel saw grating against metal, making one suspect its vocal cords were leaking air or ruptured. Of course, this suspicion lasted only a second, as what happened next utterly stunned everyone into silence.

Suddenly, the female ghost’s head shot out of its abdomen, its neck stretching out like a pig’s intestine for nearly ten feet. Its hair, already long, now trailed all the way to its heels. The face, bloodless and white as a sheet of paper, was hidden within, leaving only two blood-red eyes visible, creating an illusion of being trapped in the Netherworld itself.

"Waaa ha ha ha..." The female ghost wickedly licked its lips, dragging Old Madam Fan behind it like a dead dog suspended in mid-air. Its body pulsed up and down as its eyes fixed hungrily on the others huddled in the corner. Gou Dan’s father, the most timid, was already completely panicked, dragging a soaked pair of trousers as he desperately searched for a hiding place. Perhaps thoroughly scared witless, he actually burrowed straight into Little Ma Zi’s mother’s embrace, wriggling and bumping about, refusing to come out. Little Ma Zi’s mother’s face instantly flushed scarlet. With a mighty heave of her pig-like trotters, she flung the old scoundrel whoosh onto the floor.

As for Village Head Tian, he was simply out of luck. Someone had just taken a wrong step, giving him a kick that jarred him awake. But as his eyes hazily opened, he witnessed the sight of the ghost extending its head. The result was predictable: he foamed at the mouth and immediately passed out again. Young Master Liu, having seen some of the world, possessed a stronger constitution, certainly more capable than his father. He stood guard beside Tian Guoqiang and the others, gripping an oil can, calculating where to smash the demon if it lunged his way.

Gazing upon the captured prey, the female ghost’s smile grew more triumphant. Yet, it clearly failed to notice a fleeting, almost invisible smile cross the lips of Old Madam Fan, who was currently bound like a tight package.

"Halt! Evil beast, take this!" Old Madam Fan suddenly shrieked, her silver hair standing bolt upright. Simultaneously, the female ghost shrieked as if electrocuted and flung her away. Old Madam Fan, old and frail, could not generate any momentum in mid-air to adjust her posture. Although she tried with effort, she only managed to squeeze out a fart. The result, predictably, was a world-shattering CRASH as her spine slammed against the wall. She rolled up like a ball, tumbling several times across the cement floor before finally stopping. Watching Old Madam Fan spinning on the ground, Young Master Liu roared in anger, "Damn it! What the hell are you playing at? It’s no time for bowling!"

Now, Old Madam Fan was a sight of utter disarray. Besides being covered in dust and grime, her withered old mouth was bleeding, a crimson thread tracing down from the corner of her lip. And the female ghost, inexplicably struck by something Old Madam Fan had done, bore a red splotch upon its pale body. The edges of the stain were already severely scorched, and several surrounding patches of skin had melted away like sludge onto the floor, causing the ghost to grimace in pain. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the stain was the Corpse-Suppressing Copper Coin Old Madam Fan had been clutching in her palm earlier!

"Waaa ha ha ha!" Now it was Old Madam Fan’s turn to laugh heartily. She coolly plucked an old tooth from her mouth and declared with blatant arrogance, "Nothing impressive! Just a common snake spirit."

However, before she could utter her next sentence, the female ghost lunged straight toward her. Old Madam Fan knew this was a moment of life or death. Of the nine people present, only she could still fight back; the others were mere spectators, useless fodder not even worth the snake spirit’s indigestion. If she succeeded today, all would be well; if she failed, well, the town’s coffin maker would likely earn a tidy profit tomorrow. Sigh! How on earth did these wretched brats get tangled up with her? Was her own time truly up? Thinking this, Old Madam Fan hardened her heart, clenched her jaw, stomped her foot, clamped down hard between her two rows of large teeth, and bit down hard on her tongue. Instantly, the taste of salt and rot flooded her mouth as her own blood rushed in.

Of course, the sharp pain cleared her previously stunned mind a little. She immediately opened her mouth and spat a jet of blood directly at the female ghost’s head. This time, the female ghost hadn't anticipated such a move from Old Madam Fan. It was completely splattered across its face. As the blood droplets touched the ghost’s cheek, they drilled into the skin with blinding speed. Unable to bear the pain, the ghost let out a piercing shriek, clawing frantically at its face as if the blood were something terrifying.

As the saying goes, "A man who doesn't kick someone when they're down isn't a man!" Old Madam Fan, having been a village shaman for so many years, naturally understood this principle, plus, she wasn't a man anyway...

Without another word, she pulled two silver needles, thin as cow hair, from her drawers and plunged them deep into her own temples, several centimeters in—a truly astonishing sight. This made Young Master Liu’s eyes bulge in disbelief. He wondered if the old crone had taken the wrong medicine; what a unique way to commit suicide! But Old Madam Fan did not simply kick the bucket as he imagined.

Instead, her body gave a violent jolt. Veins bulged across her forehead, neck, and wrists, rising like ancient tree roots breaking the earth. Her face flushed a color like cinnabar—not the common red of embarrassment or anger, but an indescribable hue, so vibrant it could be said to surpass even the famous red face of Guan Yu. Old Madam Fan’s mouth was also busy, muttering a string of bizarre words and phrases. Although Young Master Liu was quite close, he couldn't make out the meaning, only catching fragments mentioning 'Ancestor' and 'Divine Technique.'

Old Madam Fan’s stooped back straightened suddenly, and her sunken eye sockets filled out somewhat. She lifted a foot, used her bloodied hand to draw a symbol on the sole of her shoe, then twisted her old waist and kicked the female ghost high into the sky. She immediately leaped from the ground, forming a lānhuāzhǐ (orchid finger) with her left hand and a sword-finger with her right. With a swish, she seized the female ghost's head, removed one of the silver needles from her temple, and drove it straight into the ghost’s yìn táng (the spot between the eyebrows). Struck by this blow, a sesame-seed-sized black dot appeared on the ghost's forehead, which rapidly expanded outwards, spreading like a rotting sore until a gaping black hole formed. Around the edges of this hole, countless streams of black fluid oozed out, spreading across the female ghost’s face like a spiderweb.

"Damn your ancestors! You old hag! I'll kill you!" The female ghost shrieked, clutching its face in agony, its disheveled hair flying. Its screams echoed throughout the small hut, causing streaks of blood to run down the walls like some kind of abstract mural.

"Oh, hehehe, see if you have the ability! Go on, try and bite me!?" Old Madam Fan sneered. The technique she had just used was called 'Divine Strike,' a widely circulated folk sorcery with ties to the Maoshan Sect. Legend holds that a Divine Strike first requires setting up an altar, offering sacrifices, and paying homage to a deity (or a highly skilled martial spirit). Then, one must prick their own temples with special cow-hair needles to stimulate yang energy, allowing the spirit to possess them and vastly increase their power. It is said that after using this technique, even someone paralyzed and utterly weak can, for a short time, unleash their latent potential, multiplying their martial strength and skill manifold. However, this method is not without flaws. If misused, it is extremely dangerous, leading to mental damage at best, or death at worst. Furthermore, for a long time after the ritual, the caster’s stamina will be severely depleted, often resulting in serious illness. Thus, although Old Madam Fan had learned this Divine Strike routine long ago, she had never dared to use it. Today, with no other recourse, she was forced to this extreme measure.

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