Among these dozen or so ghosts, six were at the True Immortal level. The leading old ghost with a sheep's head was quite powerful, already on par with an ordinary True Immortal from an Immortal Domain. The others were weaker, about as strong as elders of ordinary immortal sects or some rogue immortals.
But Wang Kun and Zhao Qian had already lost six or seven tenths of their strength. They were nowhere near capable of fighting these well-rested ghosts. The horse-headed ghost shook its skull bell, and waves of sound swept toward them.
Wang Kun and Zhao Qian, both True Immortals, were already like clay Bodhisattvas crossing a river—barely able to save themselves. How could they protect the other two immortals? An attack from a True Immortal-level ghost, even if aimed only partly at those two immortals, was more than they could easily withstand.
The ghostly wailing burrowed into the two immortals' minds, as though blades were churning through their brains. The pain was unbearable, and they clutched their heads, groaning without pause.
"Wretched fiend!" Wang Kun roared, swinging the spirit blade in his hand hard. A blue Spirit Tiger burst from the blade's gleam and lunged at the sheep-headed old ghost with immense authority.
"Child's play!" the sheep-headed old ghost cackled. He had clearly spent many years fighting his way through the Immortal Realm and knew how formidable True Immortals from the Immortal Domains could be. He sought no victory, only to avoid defeat. Gray-black ghostly energy emanated from his two skeletal hands, surging outward in great masses until it shrouded the surrounding space. At the same time, a huge vortex formed before him. The blue Spirit Tiger charged in, only to be sucked into the vortex.
The blue Spirit Tiger struggled fiercely, but could not break free of