Realizing he had been used, Fang Shu was neither anxious nor angered. His voice remained steady as he blurted out:
"Too kind, fellow Daoist. Just hand those valuables over to me."
Hearing this, the immortal cultivator surnamed Hui suddenly raised his laughter, like the shriek of a night owl, and said:
"Ha ha, what unfortunate timing. Not only can Hui not give them to you, I'll also need to borrow your head to take back and appease the sect."
The man leaped up. His withered knuckles danced as he formed a hand seal, pointed at Fang Shu, and shouted, "Marshal troops and command generals, heed my order! Go!"
Crack, crack.
The skeletons transformed from the Withered Bone Abbey disciples had the ghostfire in their eye sockets flare abruptly. Their stark white bones clattered together as, in an instant, they formed a White Bone battle formation.
Nearly ten skeletons swarmed over Fang Shu like ants drawn to carrion, closing in from every direction. Their bony claws were razor-sharp, stirring waves of chilling wind and ghostly qi.
As for the gray-robed immortal cultivator, his form was like smoke, flickering unpredictably amid the skeleton formation.
At times, the fiend extended a claw from the left flank; at others, he launched a killing strike from behind. His right arm was white bone, grim and gleaming with the cold luster of jade. It could expand or contract, and every probing strike precisely targeted Fang Shu's vital points, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue as it waited to bite.
Compared to their earlier clash, the gray-robed immortal cultivator had clearly only now begun using his full strength.
In an instant, it seemed the fiend had turned the tables and was about to surround and kill Fang Shu instead.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Fang Shu did not