Chapter Thirty-Seven: Successfully Slaying the Ghost Lord? (Bonus Chapter for @Truelove)

At this very moment, the words flashing incessantly through his mind were: tried to act cool, ended up being humiliated instead...

Bang.

Fu Yang crashed to the freezing floor of the Temple of White Bones like a dead pig. Blood spewed from his mouth once more, and it felt as though a handful of razor blades had been jammed into his chest, churning relentlessly.

The bones in his back seemed broken; the slightest movement sent searing pain through him. He couldn’t even crawl, let alone stand and run for his life.

“It’s over, really over this time! I’m probably going to bite the dust for real.”

Fu Yang’s heart was shrouded in despair. He only hoped this ghost lord wouldn’t torture him, but grant him a swift death...

“Damn you, big brother! You smashed me for so long, it hurt so much. Now I want to play with you! Torture you! I’ll grind every bone in your body to powder, bit by bit!”

Damn! Just what he feared most had come true!

This wretched brat really meant to torture him to death.

“That’s it, it’s really the end! Might as well call it GG for this life…”

Hearing the ghost lord’s voice brimming with boundless fury, Fu Yang knew his chances of survival had vanished. In this cavern, eighty meters underground, inside the Temple of White Bones, there was no way anyone would come to save him.

“Unless... life gets as melodramatic as a soap opera, I have no hope of surviving.”

He sighed, laboriously crawling across the icy temple floor, glancing back at the ghost lord who was rapidly closing in—waiting for death to arrive!

A cold touch crept up his calf. The ghost lord’s chilling voice sounded: “Big brother, tell me, should I break your left leg first, or your right?”

“I’d rather break your third leg! But you’re just a brat who hasn’t even grown any hair, probably can’t understand a word, huh? Hahaha! If you were alive, I’d pay top dollar to hire ten muscle-bound African bodybuilders to blow up your little flower…”

Knowing he had no hope of escape, Fu Yang simply let loose, cursing wildly with every foul word imaginable, pouring them out as if they cost nothing, a torrent of obscenity.

Even though his opponent was a fearsome ghost who had been dead for many years, he was still provoked into howling with rage.

“All right, big brother, then I’ll smash your third leg first.”

With that, a kick came flying, and Fu Yang spun through the air, landing flat on his back with a thud. The pain made him spit blood again...

He hadn’t even caught his breath when he saw the ghost lord’s terrifying face looming above, a shadowy iron lampstand aimed straight at his groin!

“About to bite the dust…” Fu Yang sighed, resigned, and closed his eyes.

Just then, a ball of fire the size of a human head came whistling through the temple entrance. In an instant, it crossed the ten-meter gap and struck the ghost lord’s chest with a heavy blow.

Scorching flames and tremendous force sent it staggering back several steps. Then a familiar voice rang out from the entrance.

“Xiao Yangzi, you ****, hurry up and dodge!”

It was Ah Huang’s voice!!!

In that moment, tears streamed down Fu Yang’s face. The world seemed so beautiful, and life as melodramatic as a TV drama!

“I really am the protagonist with plot armor, what luck…” Gritting his teeth against the agony, he scrambled forward on hands and knees.

But his speed was nothing compared to the ghost lord’s.

He’d barely crawled a few meters before he could feel a frigid wind and the stench of decay at his back—the damned ghost was upon him!

“Damn! Reinforcements are here, I can’t die just before dawn. That’d be such a waste!”

Sheer survival instinct lent Fu Yang strength. Pressing his hands to the ground, he launched himself forward like a fish, landing with a thud beneath the incense table stacked with preserved human hearts.

Hardly had he left his original spot when—boom!—the furious ghost lord stamped down, shattering the stone floor and leaving a small crater riddled with cracks.

That split-second difference was all it took: Ah Huang’s second spell attack finally came!

Five little figures, cut from yellow talisman paper, zipped through the air like a gale. Though only palm-sized, they laughed and chattered gleefully, almost like real children.

As soon as they reached the battered ghost lord, they stuck themselves to it—one on the forehead, one on the heart, one on the back, one on the navel, and one on the tailbone.

As if under a petrification spell, the ferocious ghost lord froze in place, only able to glare venomously at Fu Yang cowering beneath the incense table.

“Hey, Xiao Yangzi, you dead yet? If you’re still alive, move it! Get behind me, that’s the only safe spot,” Ah Huang shouted, finally bursting into the temple. He brandished a peachwood sword, feet shifting through special steps as he lunged at the ghost lord.

“Don’t jinx me! I’m still alive and kicking,” Fu Yang grimaced in pain, throat burning and nearly coughing up blood again, crawling faster than a roach sprayed with insecticide…

Ah Huang thrust the peachwood sword at the ghost lord’s neck, hoping to sever its head in one blow!

Clang!!!

The metallic resonance rang throughout the Temple of White Bones.

“Damn! Even a severely wounded ghost lord is this tough?” Ah Huang was astonished.

But today was the best chance they’d ever have; if he couldn’t finish off this body now, there might never be another opportunity.

So he didn’t retreat, but pressed the attack—stabbing, slashing, sweeping, and hacking at every vital point with his peachwood sword in a flurry of Daoist sword techniques. He didn’t destroy the creature entirely, but weakened it further.

Now was the time!

Ah Huang straightened, holding the sword upright in both hands: “By the urgent decree of the Three Pure Ones, grant me your might! Paper servants, explode!”

As soon as he spoke, the five little paper figures stuck to the ghost lord suddenly burst into roaring flames. The fire snaked around the ghost lord’s body, spreading and connecting until it was entirely engulfed—a bizarre figure wreathed in flames.

“Kill, kill, kill… I’ll kill you all. I’ll slaughter everyone…” The ghost lord shrieked hideously amid the Daoist flames, its childlike voice uttering words of cruelty—a contrast so chilling it defied description.

After unleashing this series of spells, Ah Huang was utterly spent and quickly retreated to Fu Yang’s side.

His legs were so weak he could barely stand, yet he grinned with smug pride.

“Xiao Yangzi… Bro, I actually took down a ghost lord! Even my master might not have managed that! I’ll be bragging about this for the rest of my life!”

Lying prostrate on the ground, Fu Yang retorted, “Careful you don’t end up humiliated instead of looking cool! That thing’s not dead yet, don’t let your guard down.”