At the same time, some people were also watching Gong Chenying. Her figure possessed an even more fluid beauty, and every strike carried a unique rhythm of power.
Tall and slender, she raised a crimson spear into the air before her.
Either she slapped the spear shaft with her palm, or her jade fist smashed heavily into the butt of the spear. The Red Whisk Crimson Dragon Spear howled as it swept and churned, already forming a world of crimson before her.
As they had discussed earlier, her main task was to intercept the corpse ghosts rushing toward them.
Yet some corpse water insects would still slip through the other defenses. But the instant those corpse water insects touched the red radiance, they silently turned into wisps of green smoke.
Within that crimson world, every corpse ghost that entered wore a twisted expression, as though enduring endless agony.
At the same time, small crimson dragons raced back and forth through that crimson world. They were incomparably swift, as though they were everywhere at once.
They were illusions formed from spear shadows, as though ten thousand dragons were stirring the heavens and earth.
The moment a corpse ghost touched one, it was like ice and snow meeting the blazing sun. Amid their howls, dried scars appeared one after another across their bodies.
They did not dare touch those small crimson dragons at all, as though they were their natural nemesis. Once a corpse ghost entered the crimson world, it would usually shrivel up, collapse, and die within less than ten breaths.
To outsiders, this was simply because her magic treasure was an object of utmost yang, undoubtedly the finest kind of treasure for restraining cold and yin ghostly creatures.
However, Gong Chenying was ultimately only a Nascent Soul cultivator. Facing such