One finger: Cloud-Cleaving, Wave-Stilling.
Lin Feng saw Daoist Ji deliver his final finger strike. Several low-level Wraith Children blocked his path and were killed by that single thrust.
Thunderclap surged through Daoist Ji, and crackling sounds came from his body.
This was the so-called Tiger-Leopard Thunderclap.
The roar of his bones surged forth with overwhelming force.
Old Mother of Mount Li—or rather, one of the women who had held that title—did not see Daoist Ji. As soon as he appeared, Wraith Children pounced on him, and his finger strike smashed those blocking his path to pieces.
Daoist Ji's attack failed to hurt his true target. He sighed wistfully.
"Is this all I can do? In the end, I still can't catch up to Patriarch Wang."
He looked somewhat regretful, but did not spare his junior another glance. The few lamps had burned through their oil, and he, too, was about to disappear.
Human strength had its limits. Those words came to mind.
The flames should have risen higher.
Unfortunately, the flames that came later were impure. What he needed was the Incense Offerings of the Taoist Temple's descendants.
Of these flames, only the first few were of any real use.
If he swallowed the others, he would become Old Mother of Mount Li's slave.
Even on the brink of death, he had only used that occult practitioner's method of survival, separating his soul from his flesh.
He refused to use Old Mother of Mount Li's method.
Though I feared death and clung to life, throughout my life I harmed only myself, never others. At least my conscience is clear.
Like sand blown away by the wind.
Having failed to achieve anything with his strike, he gradually disappeared. Lin Feng watched, with no time to sigh. He turned his Fire Lance