The entire front courtyard of the Dragon Painting Temple was in chaos. Not only the emperor, the Princes and Nobles, and the many officials, but even the vast majority of the temple's monks were fleeing.
Yet some remained unmoved, towering firm amid the panic: Master Dingzhen, the abbot of the Dragon Painting Temple, who stood almost within arm's reach of Guan Xinrui, and Zhong Xingwen, just a few steps away.
Then the vengeful ghost seized Guan Xinrui by the throat, unleashing resentment that soared into the heavens.
"Give me back my life!" Those words turned countless legs to jelly. Looking back, they saw a ghost with a livid face and savage fangs, blood flowing from all seven orifices-a horror scarcely imaginable even in their worst nightmares.
Quite a few felt warmth spreading through their crotches without even realizing it. After all, some among them owed lives themselves, and their guilty consciences trembled.
But the one paying his debt now was Guan Xinrui, the official who might otherwise have become the emperor's newest favorite.
Daoist Xue swept his sword fingers in a circle. The fire dragon formed from talismans coiled around the few people at the center, then dispersed along the perimeter.
Where the emperor should also have stood, only Guan Xinrui and the vengeful ghost remained.
Zhong Xingwen still stood a few steps away. On one side was Master Dingzhen, who had not moved from beginning to end; on the other was the Daoist who had just dispersed the fire dragon.
Daoist Xue stood there, the imposing force of Fire Dragon Clearing the Way lending him an air beyond mortal men. His hands still held their seal as he surveyed the surroundings, looking particularly toward the emperor.
Though the fire dragon had dispersed, it still stirred a scorching wind, making