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The moment Tang Changsheng approached with his lamp, every gaze swung toward him in the street.
A chill ran through him, making every hair stand on end.
The people before him had stiff, twisted bodies and deathly pale faces. Stranger still, each had a circle of red painted on their cheeks.
No matter how he looked at them, they did not look human. They were eerie beyond belief!
Tang Changsheng's heart gave a jolt. He saw them draw long swords, one after another.
Only then did he realize they were all dressed like wandering swordsmen from ancient Central Land.
If the scene had not been so uncanny, it might even have reminded him of the Dragon Gate Inn.
A whole crowd of rough-and-ready swordsmen were waiting for him. The instant he stepped out, they would draw their Weapons and swarm him. Then would come the reek of blood and a spray of it across the ground. Still, as he kept saying, if everything had not seemed so strange!
If only everything had not been so strange!
As they drew their Weapons and closed in, that odd, distorted feeling finally made Tang Changsheng blurt out, "Paper People!"
The Primordial Yang Divine Lamp blazed, its light dispelling every illusion. The figures flying toward him, swords and bodies as one, like ethereal immortals, were indeed nothing but a pile of Paper People.
“Come on, then!” Tang Changsheng barked. He blew a breath of cultivated inner energy into the Primordial Yang Divine Lamp.
The flame flared, scattering scores of sparks through the air. In an instant, all dozen or so Paper People caught fire midflight.
Tang Changsheng took two steps back. By the time they reached him, they had turned to ash and drifted down.
The murky fog around him began to disperse,