Chapter 41: Whose Prize Will It Be?

As Le Dong felt the yin energy that had been restraining his body slowly dissipate, his first reaction was not relief. He whipped his head around to look at Butler Ma, Hou Kui, and Xiao Zhang, who were struggling to stand up from the floor. Compared to the old Master Hu downstairs, Le Dong was now far more afraid of these three flesh-and-blood men.

"Kill them! Quickly, do it!"

Sure enough, before Butler Ma had even fully risen, he turned to shout at Hou Kui and Xiao Zhang, who were bleeding from their noses and mouths: "I’ll double your commission! Do it now!"

But Xiao Zhang and Hou Kui were not idiots. The internal injuries and searing pain from being knocked away moments ago had barely subsided, and now they were expected to go after Le Dong again? Had they not seen the two reinforcements who had arrived? Had they not seen the old man with the braid wielding his sword with such ferocious power? Had they not seen him beating the ghost until it fled in terror? They had been promised that the supernatural occurrences in this villa were all part of the act, but everything they were seeing now defied all reason. And yet, he still wanted them to fight? They might be desperate for money and on the run, but they were not fools!

"Pah!"

The two exchanged a look and, without a second thought, turned to bypass Butler Ma and head downstairs. However, they had only taken a few steps when the spirit from the end of the hallway came rushing out, howling, and forced them to halt their descent. Seeing Fan Biao charging in pursuit, the pair decided to stay put and wait for another opportunity.

Seeing that the two had given up on the fight, Le Dong felt a slight sense of relief, finally finding a moment to turn his gaze toward the stairs. There, the spirit was flickering with blue light; every sword mark left on its form burned like a hot iron, refusing to fade.

"Old Zhou! Are you ready yet?"

Although the spirit was suffering, a trace of anxiety and fatigue could be heard in Fan Biao’s voice.

"Almost!"

Hearing the response from downstairs, Le Dong looked down. At this moment, Zhou Fan was moving through the cluttered living room like a phantom, every step he took following a strange, rhythmic pattern. As he took his final step, he reached into his robe; when he withdrew his hand, his fingers held dozens of six-inch-long golden talismans. Without even looking, he flicked his wrist, and the talismans shot out as if possessed by life itself.

*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…*

The dozens of talismans did not fly toward the spirit, but instead stuck precisely to the surrounding walls, the load-bearing pillars, and even the overturned furniture.

As each talisman landed or attached itself, a faint golden light shimmered, rippling out like pebbles cast into a calm pool. These ripples quickly intertwined and connected, forming the prototype of an invisible cage within the vast living room. An unseen pressure began to permeate the space, aimed squarely at the spirit locked in combat on the stairs.

"Old Fan! The trap is set!"

Seeing this, a look of joy appeared on Zhou Fan’s face, and he called out to Fan Biao impatiently. The latter took the cue, swinging his sword with even broader strokes, forcing the spirit to constantly parry and dodge, driving it step by step toward the heart of the array Zhou Fan had prepared.

"Heh... heh..."

"Damn it, stop wailing!"

The man and the ghost were not just trading physical blows; they were shouting and cursing at each other. Their voices, mixed with the clash of blue and red light, shook the walls and ceiling of the stairwell until dust rained down. This scene, which defied all logic, left Le Dong lying on the ground in terror, while Cai Kun clutched the strange, wriggling bug that had finally gone quiet in his palm, not daring to let out a breath.

Finally, under the barrage of sword light, the spirit drifted down the stairs and into the talisman array Zhou Fan had laid out. At that exact moment, Zhou Fan pulled another talisman from his chest, formed a hand seal, and chanted in a voice thick with a Northwestern accent:

"Yin has the laws of Yin, Yang has the laws of Yang! Before the Mirror of Sins, reveal your true form! With the iron pen, I decree; with the karmic fire, I burn the nether! Upon the Stone of Three Lives, your sins are laid bare! By the decree of the Netherworld, the array shall purge! Reveal your true nature,孽障, and face the judgment of the Underworld! Obey this command instantly!"

Zhou Fan’s voice was majestic, each word falling like gold beads onto a jade plate, carrying a strange, piercing power. As the final word, "Obey," left his lips, he pointed his fingers forward like a sword!

The surrounding talismans flashed with intense golden light; several even burst into green flames, though no smoke rose from them. It did not matter, however, for the web of ripples suddenly flared to life!

Fan Biao was long accustomed to such sights. He put away his copper-coin sword and performed a feint, stumbling as if exhausted to create a deliberate opening. The spirit, driven into a frenzy by the battle and sensing the restrictive power around it—a force it loathed and feared—roared recklessly. It transformed into a dense mass of blue-black resentment and, like a diving vulture, lunged straight at Zhou Fan in the center of the room! It seemed to instinctively feel that tearing apart the old man who had set the trap would shatter the hateful confinement.

"Well come!" Zhou Fan shouted, his expression cold and majestic.

Just as the spirit, carrying its towering resentment, was about to reach him, a sudden change occurred!

Zhou Fan slammed his hands together, his true words exploding like a thunderclap: "Yin Official, punish the evil! Decree!"

*Hum—!*

The talismans, already glowing with gold, pulsed. In the next second, countless chains of pure golden light appeared from thin air, weaving and intertwining like serpents to form a complex, three-dimensional golden cage around the spirit!

*Boom—!*

"Heh... heh... my gold..."

The spirit crashed into the golden cage, producing a sound of intense searing, and thick black smoke billowed upward. The shrill, agonizing scream was enough to shatter everyone's eardrums! It struck out frantically at the golden chains; every impact caused them to tremble violently and the golden light to dim, but the cage remained incredibly resilient, holding it firmly within.

"A spirit lingering in the realm of Yang, harming lives—I sentence you to roll upon the Mountain of Knives and bathe in the Karmic Fire!"

Zhou Fan’s face turned pale and his body trembled; it was as if uttering these words required him to bear a massive burden. As for the spirit trapped within, the moment Zhou Fan finished his last word, the golden chains suddenly transformed into countless tiny blades that scraped against the spirit like a meat grinder.

That was not all; the golden ripples scattered around the room came to life, igniting into flames that closed in to scorch the spirit huddled within the array. However, as the blades and flames appeared, the talismans stuck to the surrounding surfaces began to burn away, turning into black ash. This caused the golden blades and flames to visibly thin out…

"Old Zhou, don't overexert yourself! If it’s too much, I’m here!"

Fan Biao had landed by now. Watching Zhou Fan’s complexion, he couldn't help but offer comfort, all the while brandishing his copper-coin sword as he stood guard at the edge of the array, ready to deliver a fatal blow once the spirit was weakened to its limit.

The scene unfolding before the eyes of those on the second-floor railing had long since brought their hearts to their throats. Le Dong and Cai Kun naturally hoped for victory, while the three dazed men behind them—Butler Ma and his companions—had thoughts that were far from honorable…

Just as everyone was captivated by this critical moment, the sound of countless flashing red and blue lights appeared from the distance outside the shattered villa, drawing ever closer. Accompanying them was the piercing wail of sirens.

"Woo-woo—woo-woo—woo-woo—!"