Fierce Bravery Unmatched

Sun Fuping was too lazy to answer; if the Void Barrier could have held until the end, he would not have wanted to invite extra trouble.

He Chunhua, however, asked urgently, "What do we do now?"

"Borrowing the power of Heaven and Earth." Sun Fuping had never spoken so quickly before. "Governor He, ready your State Decree!"

While He Chunhua scrambled to find his Kite Coins, Nian Songyu and Zeng Feixiong had already issued orders, commanding the troops to form a circular formation to protect the important figures in the center.

Zeng Feixiong shouted, "Hold the line! The vengeful spirits are almost exhausted; we only need to hold on for another dozen breaths!"

Although he said it to boost morale, his words were not far from the truth. The Great Wind Army rushing out of the well was indeed thinning out, and it looked like the end was near, lacking the overwhelming, tide-like momentum from before.

No one could imagine what other vengeful spirits could appear as a grand finale besides the Great Wind Army.

Therefore, this truly should have been the final wave.

However, as beautiful as the wish was, the reality was just as cruel. Just as everyone mustered their courage, the Void Barrier went "pop" and shattered.

It shattered...

The earthy-yellow light flickered weakly twice, as if it had contributed its very last ounce of strength, and then it simply gave up.

Everyone's heart tightened, and they swallowed hard in silence.

He Lingchuan had already shouted a warning: "Don't move!"

Although the Void Barrier was broken, the Soul-Suppressing Powder they had consumed had not yet worn off. The life-fires on their shoulders and foreheads were still burning, so perhaps?

After all, even without the barrier, the previous vengeful spirits had not discovered them.

At this moment, what rushed out of the well was a small detachment of the Great Wind Army: a commander leading a dozen cavalrymen.

They had just flown out five zhang when they happened to catch the moment the Void Barrier broke.

Gulp. A sand bandit subconsciously swallowed.

The dozen cavalrymen showed no reaction, but the commander suddenly reined in his horse, turned back, and stared straight at them.

The Yellow Steed reared up with a whinny, spun around, and faced them head-on.

The dozen cavalrymen also turned in perfect unison.

Time seemed to stand still. The opposition made no move; even the horses stopped flicking their tails.

During this bizarre standoff, the living could hear their own hearts pounding with startling loudness.

Nian Songyu squeezed words through his teeth: "Do—not—move!"

Immediately after, the Great Wind Army commander spurred his horse, and the steed galloped forward on all four hooves, charging straight at them!

The dozen riders followed closely behind.

They were clearly just soul-bodies, and clearly just a small squad, yet the sound of hooves was like thunder, carrying the momentum of a thousand troops, causing even the ground to tremble incessantly.

He Lingchuan clearly saw the commander's spear tip lift slightly, and a cold light flashed!

"Dodge, everyone dodge!" he roared. "They see us!" He then grabbed He Chunhua and ducked directly behind Sun Fuping.

If the sky were to fall, the State Preceptor would be there to hold it up.

The distance between the two sides was already short, and with the speed of the horses, they were upon them almost as soon as the hooves hit the ground.

He Lingchuan could even hear the huffing and puffing from the horses' nostrils.

So realistic, so dangerous.

Nian Songyu didn't even have time to roll his eyes; he leaped in front of Sun Fuping, holding up a Prism Shield with his right hand to block them.

The angle at which he held the shield was cunning; he calculated that the heroic spirits could not easily change direction during a charge, so the shield was angled to the side, never intending to take the impact head-on.

Even so, he tensed his entire body, assuming a defensive stance.

This shield was crafted from the shell of a Leatherback Turtle Demon, and the 150 years of cultivation added to it gave the shield astonishing hardness. The grid-patterned surface could absorb external force and negate a portion of magical attacks.

He Lingchuan was slightly startled: This thing can block the attacks of intangible vengeful spirits?

As if knowing what he was thinking, Sun Fuping tapped a finger on Nian Songyu's shield and whispered, "Om!"

The shield immediately emitted a faint green light.

Just as he retracted his finger, the vengeful commander's spear struck the Prism Shield with a loud, dull thud.

Nian Songyu was knocked back seven steps, relying on the strength of his waist and legs to avoid being sent flying.

State Preceptor Sun was right behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder, moving backward with him. However, he looked as light as an empty sack; upon landing, he was not only composed but even appeared somewhat elegant.

He took this opportunity to reach out, and the staff that had been stuck in the middle of the formation automatically flew back to him.

As for the He father and son, a breath before the spear and shield collided, He Lingchuan had already pulled his father two steps away with very swift footwork. This allowed them to avoid the impact perfectly, leaving them unscathed.

He surmised that the reason Nian Songyu's turtle shield could resist the vengeful spirits' attack was due to the assistance of State Preceptor Sun. Otherwise, how could a purely physical defense block a magical attack?

Nian Songyu couldn't help but take another look at He Lingchuan, thinking that while this brat's cultivation and character were equally inferior, his survival instincts were unexpectedly sharp, allowing him to dodge danger several times.

However, the others did not have the same luck as the He father and son. While the Great Wind Army commander dealt with Nian Songyu, the dozen ghost cavalrymen went after Zeng Feixiong's team.

Without needing to be told, everyone scattered in all directions.

But how could two legs run faster than four? In the span of two exchanges, six men were pierced through the chest by the ghost soldiers.

Although the opponents lacked physical bodies, the six men clutched their chests and rolled on the ground in agony, two of them vomiting blood on the spot. It was clear that the spears held by the ghost soldiers were no mere illusions; they could wound the soul.

They couldn't dodge, and they couldn't fight back—what were they to do?

The group panicked.

He Lingchuan shouted, "Commandant Nian is holding off the leader!"

He was stating a fact; there were plenty of bystanders to witness it.

Reminded by his words, everyone scrambled to gather together again.

The dozen or so cavalrymen reined in their horses, preparing for another charge, only to find the invading party regrouping. This time, however, they didn't form a circular formation; instead, all the soldiers stood behind their leader.

Their formation was still a bit messy.

The Great Wind Army commander at the lead looked at the group, then at the wounded men lying on the ground, and actually tilted his head.

The movement was uncannily like a human thinking.

Situ Han whispered, "This guy can actually think?"

He Lingchuan also sensed trouble. The commander was already formidable in combat; if he could also use his brain, he could turn this assault into a nightmare!

Sure enough, what they feared most happened. The Great Wind Army commander flicked his reins, and the Yellow Steed charged toward them once more.

However, as he passed the well, the commander pressed his arm down, dipping the tip of his spear into the water.

This time, Nian Songyu managed to deflect the charge with a desperate effort, but his arms were left aching, and the webbing between his left thumb and index finger had split open.

Who would have thought that as the commander rode past the side of the crowd, he would retract and twist the deflected spear tip, thrusting it out once again!

It was as swift as a dragonfly skimming the water.

The sand bandit standing at the very front was pierced through the throat by a single strike.

Clean and precise, with perfect control.

By the time a few drops of blood splattered onto the faces of his companions, the Yellow Steed had already charged three yards away, with the sand bandit impaled on the long spear. He wasn't dead yet, his body twitching incessantly. The commander swung him around, a trail of blood streaming down to soak his pant legs and drip onto the sandy ground.