That Yang Qi soon filled the surroundings, shrouding the people in the town. They had undergone strange transformations one after another and been tainted by that chill, each seeming as though they stood amid snow and ice. But as the Yang Qi descended and wrapped around them, warmth rose within them instead.
It was as though someone had set a blazing brazier beside them, warming both body and soul. Yet soon afterward, their minds turned hazy, and they felt certain memories rapidly slipping away.
Those memories mainly concerned the great battle that had taken place that night. At the same time, the Fortune upon them also stirred, clearly thrown into disorder by that inexplicable fluctuation of Fortune.
Once he had done this, Qiu Yan's Primordial Spirit turned and spread over the ruins of the post station before him. That radiance suddenly swelled, and when it receded again, the shattered post station had somehow been restored to its former appearance.
"What are you doing..." Not far away, the skull of the Ghost Gate, slowly fading away, spoke in puzzlement. This monster was about to return to the Netherworld and had no mind to keep tangling with Qiu Yan.
"Isn't it simple? I'm dealing with the aftermath." As Qiu Yan spoke, he raised a hand and pointed. The Primordial Spirit then rose from the reconstructed post station and actually charged toward the Ghost Gate again!
The skull froze, then flew into a rage. "What are you doing?! We spared you, yet you still want to strike?"
"Since we have already acted, we must settle victory and defeat. Besides, once you return, you will inevitably fight another round with Qiu's Dharma Form. Since that is the case, why not place the battlefield in the Mortal Realm?" As Qiu Yan spoke, his fleshly body