Seeing Chen Yi charging at him, the ghost cultivator's smile grew ever more wanton.
"Beauty, are you so impatient to get intimate with this old ghost?"
"Go to hell!" Chen Yi cried.
Her expression was resolute, the cold gleam of the sword in her hand sharp and fierce.
The ghost cultivator did not care in the slightest. He extended his claw-like hand and grabbed at the blade.
"Chen Yi, run!" Qu Feng's hoarse roar came from afar.
But he could only shout; he had no means of freeing himself to aid Chen Yi.
Song Wen, meanwhile, appeared utterly indifferent to Chen Yi's plight. He did not even hurry to flee, as though the situation before him had frightened him senseless and left him at a loss. Yet because of this, no one attacked him, allowing him to remain an "outsider."
"Clang!"
The ghost cultivator's claw caught Chen Yi's thrusting sword, producing an ear-piercing scrape.
"Beauty, you've got quite the fiery temper. This old ghost likes it!"
As he spoke, the ghost cultivator tightened his claw, intending to pull Chen Yi into his embrace.
Chen Yi was alarmed and flustered. She tried to wrench her sword free, but the claw gripped it like an iron vise. She could not budge it at all.
She was decisive as well, immediately letting go of the sword.
Then, a violent aura of destruction erupted from her dantian and surged sharply upward.
The ghost cultivator sneered.
"Beauty, you actually want to self-detonate your Nascent Soul? You think too little of this old ghost!"
The ghost cultivator's claw shot out, aimed straight at Chen Yi's throat.
Just as the withered black claw was about to touch that fair neck, a golden gleam suddenly flashed forth, swift as a streak of light.
Before the ghost cultivator could