Boom!
The phantom gate behind Fang Mo burst open.
What should have been a one-sided slaughter was meant to see the countless evil spirits, carrying their overwhelming grievance, tear Fang Mo's soul to shreds. Yet the instant the aura of the Black Prison spread, every ghostly wail abruptly fell silent.
The snarling, clawing evil spirits halted mid-charge in the air.
What had they sensed?
It was a shudder from the depths of their souls, the instinctive terror of those beneath a supreme ruler.
To them, that black prison was both an inescapable cage and some eerie final resting place.
"Come on in!"
Fang Mo swept his hand, and an invisible force of suction erupted from the Prison Suppressor's gate.
There was no earth-shattering clash of spells, only a bone-chilling devouring.
The once-ferocious evil spirits now acted like wanderers who had been away from home for years and finally spotted their mother. They jostled to be first, wailing and crying as they scrambled through the black gate.
Some even grew so furious at being unable to squeeze inside that they tore at the companions beside them.
"What kind of demonic magic is this?!"
The composure on the Red Robe Man's face collapsed in an instant. Even his thick layer of powder could not conceal his shock.
His Hundred Ghosts Fan was a secret heirloom of the Blood God Temple, a magical artifact with over a hundred vicious grievance-bound spirits sealed inside. Each had undergone special refinement and was utterly savage.
Ordinary martial artists, even those in the Organ Refining Realm, would suffer dwindling vital energy when beset by the Hundred Ghosts and be gnawed down to bare bones.
But now...
His pride and joy, the Hundred Ghosts, were being eaten like a plate of snacks delivered to the door by that