Liu Qi took two steps back and instinctively tightened his grip on the chain at his waist.
"This old bastard's gone mad."
Ghost Banner Daoist crouched atop the wall, his banner held before him. "He's turning into that thing. Before he finishes transforming completely, hurry and..."
Before he could finish, a voice rang out from the darkness.
"Kill him."
Liu Qi froze for a moment, then turned toward the source of the voice.
Chen Mo was standing in the corner at the mouth of the alley at some unknown point, nearly merged with the shadows.
Only his wrinkled face was exposed, the dim glow of the Red Moon reflected in the depths of his eyes.
"C-Chen... Chen." Liu Qi swallowed, bending at the waist.
The others lowered their heads as well.
Chen Mo did not look at them. His gaze rested on Old Wu, who was in the midst of mutating, and he said blandly, "Once something has mutated, it's no different from what's worshipped in those jars. There's no use subduing it."
"Kill him. Prove your worth. Otherwise..."
He did not finish, but the faces of everyone present turned pale at once. They understood what he meant.
Either it died, or they did.
Only one side could live.
Liu Qi gritted his teeth. "We'll do as Chen says."
The Life-Claiming Bell at his waist suddenly rang. Seven streams of black mist took form again, fiercer than before as they lunged straight for Old Wu's face.
The young man flipped forward from the side, his short blade slashing horizontally, its edge wreathed in a faint blaze of ghostly blue fire.
All five attacked at once.
Old Wu raised his head. The split across the left half of his face opened to its widest point, and he let out a piercing