The prayer beads Feng Tian placed before Kuang Feifan, each one visibly darkened with blackness upon close inspection.

“What… what happened to the color?”

Feng Tian offered an apology without much show of remorse: “Sorry, couldn't be helped. They’ve been overrun by malevolent energy. But don’t worry, I’ll find a way to purify them for you and restring them, just for now, they can’t protect you.”

Kuang Feifan managed a wry smile. “Great. No beads for protection, still bearing the ‘Soul-Locking Seal,’ and now I encounter someone who uses dark arts targeting me. I really don’t know who I managed to offend.”

Complaints aside, he reluctantly urged Feng Tian to continue relating what happened later the previous night.

In reality, at the very moment Kuang Feifan had been struck on the back by the ghost whirlwind and knocked unconscious from the pain, the prayer beads had also broken. Feng Tian noticed the situation promptly enough, rushing over immediately and firing a projectile from his slingshot at Ji Ping.

Ji Ping managed to notice and evade it, but he couldn't stop Feng Tian from seizing the opportunity to gather the scattered beads from the ground. Feng Tian quickly scooped up several beads, bit his tongue until it bled, and spat a mouthful of his tongue-tip blood onto the beads in his hand. He then shook his hand, launching several clumps of what had coalesced into a rather substantial ghost whirlwind. Of course, he didn't forget to direct one of them toward the ghost whirlwind still ravaging Kuang Feifan’s back.

Just as Feng Tian had predicted, the beads touched by his tongue-tip blood were an absolute bane to the ghost whirlwinds. Every whirlwind struck by a bead vanished into the air in an instant, as if it had never existed.

The old Daoist priest witnessed the entire event, his eyes widening in astonishment. Immediately, as if struck by inspiration, he continued to hold his sword against the ghost whirlwinds coming from all directions, shouting, “Feng Tian, this won’t eliminate the root cause! Fetch eight beads and use them with the Spirit Fire Array I’m setting up with candles!”

Feng Tian offered a bitter smile internally. When he shot the beads, he understood that this might offer temporary resistance, but the ghost whirlwinds were merely the attack method of that initial gray smoke. The real problem was dealing with the gray smoke that had emerged from the bizarre house—the single plume of smoke had now dispersed into several serpentine tendrils wandering about. If one considered the gray smoke as a nine-headed serpent, only finding its ‘vital point’—its seven inches—could subdue it.

This was easier said than done, and considerably more complicated in practice. Although several plumes of gray smoke circled close to the ground within the courtyard, Feng Tian noticed one plume, slightly darker in color, remaining hidden in the shadows near the strange house, seemingly scrutinizing the scene in the yard. With so many whirlwinds roving around, the chance of reaching the strange house remained minuscule.

Seeing this situation, Feng Tian couldn't help but clench his teeth internally. This genuinely seemed like an impossible task. Currently, the old Daoist priest’s request to cooperate with the Spirit Fire Array set up with candles was also difficult, though not entirely unachievable.

Ji Ping had only managed to kick away the small flags in the backyard; he hadn't had time to destroy the candles arranged in the Bagua pattern. The Spirit Fire Array, formally the Eight Trigrams Spirit Fire Array, sounded formidable, but clearly, the old Daoist priest had underestimated the capabilities of whatever was trapped in the strange house. This array wouldn't inflict serious damage on the gray smoke; it would be difficult even to contain it. However, if combined with the spiritual power within the human bone beads and the essence of the tongue-tip blood—a supreme Yang and utterly potent ghost-repelling ‘treasure’—the power of the Spirit Fire Array would likely increase by far more than just a few times.

This sequence of thoughts flashed through his mind in mere moments. Yet, in that brief lapse of attention, Feng Tian felt a sudden gust of vicious wind surge up behind him, immediately followed by a tremendous force hurtling toward him, enough to send him tumbling to the ground.

Although Feng Tian hadn't undergone the rigorous physical training or combat conditioning that Kuang Feifan had, he was naturally agile. Unlike a shut-in, Feng Tian appeared somewhat refined, but in reality, he exercised and ran regularly, and his work constantly involved dealing with danger. His mind hadn't fully processed the threat, but his body reacted instinctively. As the force missed him, he ducked low, bent his body, and executed a side-roll, evading Ji Ping’s surprise attack from behind.

This reaction gave Feng Tian a precious sliver of time to counter. Before he even fully rose from the ground, his hand gripped the slingshot he had slipped onto his wrist, turning it around. The handle part of the slingshot faced forward; he squeezed the grip, and a steel spike sprang out from the front end of the handle. He then swung it forcefully backward.

This was a life-or-death moment; Feng Tian no longer considered whether this strike might injure someone. Frankly, the subtly glinting spike could easily slice through human skin.

Ji Ping truly hadn't anticipated Feng Tian possessing such a trick. After failing to tackle Feng Tian from behind, his body still unsteady, his eyes immediately noticed Feng Tian wasn't getting up, thinking this was a prime opportunity to attack again. He assumed Feng Tian hadn't recovered his wits and leaped forward, preparing to pin Feng Tian to the ground.

Ji Ping’s second attack was swift, but slightly later than Feng Tian’s prepared counter. By the time he noticed the cold glint flashing before him and realized something was wrong, the spike on the slingshot handle was already sweeping across him horizontally.

This was also a case of Feng Tian subconsciously holding back, compounded by his lack of experience in direct confrontation. Had he changed the sweeping motion to a thrust, this strike would surely have hit Ji Ping.

Since the sweeping motion created a slight temporal gap, Ji Ping noticed it in time. Though his body was already close, he managed to arch his back sharply, inhaling deeply and pulling his abdomen in.

The spike grazed Ji Ping’s abdomen. Feng Tian used the momentum of the backward swing to roll sideways, pushing off the ground with one hand to scramble back onto his feet.

Ji Ping felt a sudden chill across his abdomen, followed immediately by a burning pain. The spike had not only torn through his clothes but also sliced open the skin of his abdomen, and blood immediately began to pour out.

Ji Ping’s face paled. He instinctively clutched the wound on his stomach, and the flowing blood instantly soaked his palm. He let out a meaningless howl, abandoning any thought of tending the injury. Instead, he glared fiercely at Feng Tian, grinding his teeth and preparing to charge again.

Feng Tian’s heart sank. If Ji Ping managed to bog him down in a fight, not only would his own life be in danger, but the chances of the others in the backyard escaping peril would diminish further.

Ji Ping let go of his abdomen, suddenly exerting full force, and rushed straight toward Feng Tian. However, both his hands were now positioned defensively, confident that he could neutralize any slash or thrust Feng Tian might attempt with the spike.

Just as he was about to strike Feng Tian in that critical, hair’s breadth moment, a dark shadow suddenly bolted in from the side, slamming squarely into Ji Ping. The impact was tremendous, and the massive kinetic force caused both Ji Ping and the shadow to lose their balance, knocking them apart before they tumbled, rolling instantly to regain their footing and stand.

Feng Tian paused in surprise, blurted out, “Wang Hai?”

Wang Hai straightened up, sparing Feng Tian no glance. He spat to the side and said, “Hurry up and do what the old Daoist said! I’ll deal with this ungrateful wretch. I practiced a few days of Sanda too, didn't I?”

Feng Tian covertly glanced toward the old Daoist priest, noting that he was already shielding Zhang Xiaohui and engaging the cloud of cyan mist.

Ji Ping was becoming somewhat frantic now. He had clearly controlled the situation in the backyard just moments ago, but now the tide had turned drastically. Even though Kuang Feifan was unconscious on the ground, Ji Ping’s own situation was rapidly deteriorating.

Hearing Wang Hai claim he knew Sanda, Ji Ping roared with derisive laughter. “If you’re looking to die, I’ll oblige you.”

With that, he sprang forward, throwing a punch directly at Wang Hai’s face.

Wang Hai might have claimed to have practiced, but his actual skill was only slightly better than that of street brawlers. What gave him a slight advantage was that Ji Ping, blinded by rage, was also slower than usual due to continuous blood loss.

Seeing the punch coming straight for him, Wang Hai intended to dodge sideways and follow up with a whip kick. But as he leaned to one side, his supporting leg suddenly gave way, and he pitched straight onto the ground.

This unexpected shift caught both Wang Hai and Ji Ping by surprise. Wang Hai was utterly horrified, while Ji Ping grinned savagely in delight, rushing over to Wang Hai and raising his foot, intending to stomp hard on Wang Hai’s stomach.

Just then, Feng Tian, standing nearby, suddenly shouted, “Wang Hai, kick him in the stomach!”

Hearing this, Wang Hai realized the precarious position he had fallen into offered an opportunity. He quickly exerted force with his waist and threw his leg out in a kick.

The foot landed solidly on Ji Ping’s abdomen. This was truly compounding injury upon injury. Ji Ping felt a wave of intense agony spread from his stomach throughout his entire body. The pain caused him to let out a miserable scream, staggering backward several steps before crouching down, clutching his belly.