Chapter 213: Outside Xumi Temple

After Zhou Qing unleashed a strike and his protective energy was dispersed by several monks, the twelve monks quickly gathered, forming a circle.

"Twelve Heavenly Kings' Demon-Slaying Formation!"

A bald monk shouted, and the twelve monks, wielding iron staves, surged toward Zhou Qing. Seeing this, Zhou Qing tapped his waist, drew his blade, Wuching, from his treasure pouch, and moved to meet them.

"Clang!"

The sound of clashing metal rang out as Zhou Qing used Wuching to sever the iron staff held by one of the monks. However, as he did so, he felt several faint impacts against his protective barrier. Though these forces were minor, they were invisibly draining his spiritual energy. Yet, such consumption was negligible; with a mere thought, his Earth spiritual root replenished the energy as quickly as it was spent.

After a brief skirmish, the long iron staves of the twelve monks had all been reduced to stubs less than a foot long. During the fight, Zhou Qing attempted to strike one of the monks with his own agility, but he was astonished to find that their combat skills were far from simple. His Floating Cloud Steps, honed through years of bitter practice, held no advantage against them. Consequently, throughout the battle, he had only managed to slice their weapons, failing to inflict a single injury on the monks themselves.

Since physical prowess could not overcome them, he turned to sorcery. Forming a seal with his hands, Zhou Qing pointed toward the sky, and thunder began to rumble above. Hearing the thunder, the monks showed no signs of panic. Instead, they huddled together and chanted a bizarre incantation. Suddenly, a brilliant green glow erupted from their bodies. The twelve streams of green light converged, coalescing into a single, dazzling sphere.

As the light faded, it transformed into a spectral, bald master monk exuding a thick, ghostly aura. No sooner had this figure appeared than a bolt of Yang lightning descended from the thundering sky toward the phantom.

The master monk crossed his fists at his waist, instantly manifesting a green barrier. The Yang lightning struck the shield and vanished, though the barrier dimmed slightly from the impact. Zhou Qing did not rush to strike again; he felt this combined entity was no match for him, and killing it would be effortless. He held back not only because he had questions for the monk, but because he was baffled by the fact that the entity had truly become a spiritual body. Previously, while the monks had carried a trace of ghostly aura, they were clearly living humans. That they could merge into a spiritual ghost cultivator was deeply strange.

"You are strong! But this is not a place for you. If you value your life, I advise you one last time: leave here, now, immediately."

Despite the monk's praise, Zhou Qing sensed no fear in his tone or expression, which piqued his curiosity. Was this a display of feigned calm, or did he have powerful backing?

As Zhou Qing pondered this, a short man in white and a tall man in black emerged from the temple. The moment he saw them, Zhou Qing sensed a ghostly aura several times more potent than that of the master monk. Both men were in spiritual form, yet their bodies were remarkably solid, starkly different from the spectral appearance of the monk.

"You cannot even guard a gate. What use are you to our master, you waste?" The man in black mocked the monk before turning his gaze to Zhou Qing. "Will you strike, or shall I?"

The man in black glanced casually at Zhou Qing before looking at the short man in white. "You do it," the white-clad man said coldly, then sat upon a small stone in front of the temple. The monk who had previously blocked Zhou Qing retreated into the temple.

As the white-clad ghost cultivator sat down, the one in black unhurriedly drew a long black whip from his wide sleeve. Without a word, he lashed out at Zhou Qing. Zhou Qing stepped back several feet to evade the strike, then retrieved the small red stone that sealed Huohuo from his pouch. As the man in black swung his whip again, Zhou Qing dodged, flicked the stone, and summoned Huohuo.

Huohuo let out a strange cry and, at Zhou Qing's command, transformed into a ball of fire, lunging at the man in black. Simultaneously, Zhou Qing formed a strange seal and pointed to the sky, where the thunder began to roar again—this time, several times louder than before.

"Interesting."

As the man in black clashed with Huohuo, the man in white looked up at the sky with a meaningful smile and stood up.

"No need for you to intervene; I can handle this man myself."

As the short man in white rose, the man in black cracked his whip against Huohuo. Sparks flickered and dissipated with the strike, and Huohuo let out a pained cry.

"Rumble!"

As Huohuo was forced back, a deafening peal of thunder shook the heavens, and a brilliant bolt of golden lightning descended, striking toward the man in black. Seeing this, the man in black raised his other hand and caught the lightning bolt steadily in his palm.