The battle erupted in an instant!
Han Yan struck out with her palm, and phantom souls filled the sky, transforming into an ash-gray torrent that swept toward the pale woman, carrying the aura of death.
The pale woman sneered. Countless blood-red threads shot from around her body like venomous snakes, weaving into a dense net of blood in an attempt to shred the torrent of souls.
But she had underestimated Han Yan.
During her time in seclusion at the Ghost Dao opportunity ground, Han Yan had gained not only greater strength, but also a profound understanding of the essence of death.
The instant the ash-gray torrent touched the blood net, it was not shredded as the pale woman had expected. Instead, like water seeping into sand, it silently slipped through the gaps in the net.
"What..."
The pale woman's pupils abruptly contracted.
The next moment, countless phantom souls surged out from the other side of the blood net, directly swallowing her whole.
Piercing ghostly wails flooded her soul, while bone-chilling Ghost Qi eroded every inch of her body. The pale woman let out a shrill scream as blood light blazed around her, struggling desperately to break free.
But Han Yan gave her no chance.
With a flicker of her body, Han Yan appeared before the pale woman like a ghost. Her five fingers curled into claws as she seized her opponent by the throat.
An even purer, deeper power of the Ghost Dao surged from her palm, piercing into the pale woman's body like countless steel needles.
"Pfft!"
The pale woman spat out a mouthful of black blood, the scarlet in her eyes rapidly dimming.
Her aura plummeted like a burst dam. It was as though all her essence, energy, and spirit had been drained away, and she crumpled limply