"Let them die. Just shatter it and come back to me, Lin Ji'an."
***
Inside the hut, the situation was rapidly deteriorating into chaos.
"Flambé Strike!" Ji'an shouted.
She swung the Black Iron Spatula in a wide arc.
The intense, golden Yang Qi blazing along the edge of the iron ignited the ambient spiritual energy in the air, creating a massive wave of golden fire that crashed into the frontline of the ghostly horde.
Three spirits shrieked as the culinary fire incinerated their ethereal forms, purifying their corrupted Yin energy into harmless white smoke.
But for every spirit Ji'an destroyed, two more poured through the broken doorway and seeped through the rotting floorboards.
"Boss! Behind you!" Tang Bo screamed.
Ji'an spun, parrying a spectral claw that was aimed at Liu Liu's throat.
The force of the impact jarred Ji'an's wrist, the icy chill of the ghost's touch seeping through the iron handle of the spatula and numbing her fingers.
