"You bastard!" The Spirit howled and rushed at Han Yu, its form stretching into a long, blood colored streak.
Madam Cold Fang moved instantly, throwing up a towering wall of ice between them.
The spirit smashed into it, cracking it apart, but that moment was enough.
Han Yu retreated, flying backward while gathering himself.
Madam Cold Fang appeared beside him in a flash.
"Can you use that again?" she asked sharply.
"A few times," Han Yu replied, breathing hard. "But only if it can be held still long enough."
She nodded. "I will try. You strike at the right moment."
She turned and rushed back into battle, her Qi surging even more violently than before.
The spirit, now injured, became cautious. It dodged more carefully, weaving through attacks with frightening speed, but it also began to counterattack more fiercely, launching claws of condensed blood Qi and spikes of dark mist.
The mountains suffered for it.
