Chapter Forty-Eight: The Power of the Crimson Talisman

I was startled. My hand trembled, and the flashlight slipped from my grasp. I hurriedly snatched it up from the ground and switched it off.

Xu Mile looked at me in confusion and asked why I had turned off the flashlight for no reason. I shot back, asking if he had just heard some children talking.

Xu Mile replied, "In this deserted village and abandoned temple, where would there be children? At most, there are a few elderly people left who can barely move. Besides, we’re now—"

Fei Yike shook her head when she saw this, but she paid no further attention to Mu Chen. Instead, she urged the Heavenly Coffin forward, heading straight for the Snake King’s head, adorned with the crane crown—the very object she had come for.

Feng Wuchen bent down to pick up Feng Ming, determined that if he must die, he would die together with her. Yet, as soon as his fingers brushed the Fire Phoenix, the grand formation suddenly blazed to life. A burst of intense light enveloped everyone, and in the blink of an eye, they vanished without a trace.

The middle-aged man kneeling on the ground trembled in terror, letting the shards of jade cut through his clothes and skin, but he dared not move a muscle.

His shifting attitude toward me only fueled my anger, but no matter how I treated him, he remained as calm as still water—unmoved even if a stone were thrown in, the ripples would fade in an instant, restoring tranquility.

“To think that this wretched thing brought disaster upon my sister!” Du Guyang sighed deeply, his face full of pain.

“Sinister spirit, I do not know what grudges you bore against this family in life, but now you are long dead. To return as a specter and stir up trouble—do you take the Imperial City's Ghost Ban as mere decoration?” As soon as the middle-aged man finished speaking, a powerful aura erupted from him, spreading outward in all directions.

Not only did he have several lumps on his head, but his arms were streaked with red welts from being struck by wooden sticks.

At this moment, she appeared utterly powerless, yet the Xuan Yuan Spirit Sword could not harm her, and she held it firmly in her grasp.

Enough—if they so desperately wished for her death, she would simply have to let them die first.

“Attachment to a place is seldom for the place itself; most often, it is because of the people you met here, or the things that happened,” Wang Yi said.

The police officers were also sizing up their new superior, some doubting whether someone as young as themselves could truly lead them.

Several prodigies from the Haoran Sect charged into battle, their deadly moves clashing head-on with beams of light, shattering them as they pressed their attack on the man in blood-red robes.

Principal Cao looked at Xu Shaoyan. He had truly not misjudged him. From the moment he brought Xu Shaoyan’s “independent recruitment” to Tsinghua University, he had always been right about him.

Li Xu played along, giving Lei Zhenzi a hearty embrace. After a lengthy exchange of pleasantries, the two shook hands again, pounding each other’s shoulders with their fists, faces alight with laughter and cheer—though it was all just for show.

At the sight of the two policemen, Conan’s first instinct was to look for Mizuki Aki. He was already preparing to walk out of the restaurant on his own—better to leave willingly than be thrown out.

He was simply curious about everything, always observing—watching this world’s peculiarities, watching the shifting expressions of joy, anger, sorrow, and delight on the faces of the adults.

Wu Yi felt that his path of cultivation always circled back on itself. He wandered in endless loops, taking many steps yet never truly moving far. Whenever he paused to look back, he found himself right where he started.

Only moments ago, the leaders who’d sworn loyalty and camaraderie, vowing to share weal and woe, were now clutching their bellies and fleeing without a trace.

Su Chen, who had been attacking, was forced into defensive retreat again and again, his face growing paler with each blow. The power of a seventh-level Mystic Body was far beyond what a sixth level could withstand.

The true enemy was not the monsters atop Mount Xifu, but the serpent spirit lurking in the river below. Borrowing the mountain’s demonic might and the river’s concealment, it moved stealthily along the banks, causing floods, capsizing boats, killing people, and seizing souls.