You Can Call for Backup Now

Azure light flared at Bai Jin's fingertips, and the people of the Ghost Face Society finally panicked.

Black mist churned beneath the Soul Fighting platform. A pale ghost mask rose from it, its surface like wet clay, its eye sockets hollow, yet somehow it gave a shrill laugh.

"Bai Jin, you're too late."

Bai Jin looked at it, his tone even. "That face of yours is pretty shoddy."

The ghost mask faltered.

"I'm exhausted from rushing here," Bai Jin went on. "And that's the best opening line you've got? That hurts."

Tang San nearly lost his composure.

The arena was tense enough to kill, yet the moment Bai Jin opened his mouth, even this fight for their lives felt like a surprise quiz he had taken apart.

The ghost mask shrieked. Red lines surged from beneath the platform, dozens stabbing toward the stands at once. It meant to force Bai Jin to save the spectators and buy time for the Formation Core to reach completion.

Bai Jin did not turn around.

"Rongrong."

"Here!"

"Oscar."

"Ready!"

"Fatty."

Ma Hongjun gritted his teeth. "What do I burn?"

Bai Jin smiled. "You three handle the spectators. Tang San, don't lose the Formation Core. Boss Dai and little cat, pin down those idiots on the second level."

Everyone moved at once.

Light from Ning Rongrong's Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda split into several streams, landing precisely where each was needed. Oscar tossed Flying Mushroom Sausages to Lu Heng's squad. Ma Hongjun's flames swept along the floor, burning through the red lines without touching the seats. Dai Mubai let out a tiger's roar, and White Tiger Meteor Shower pinned the Ghost Mask Soul Masters on the second level so hard they could not raise their heads. Zhu Zhuqing flashed out of the shadows, her *Netherworld