The Invincible Female Ghost Is A Bit Of A Hopeless Romantic Chapter 250: Now, It’s Time for Round Two

Lu Yuan held the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword. The mont the blade lifted, the shadow-seat along the stone path drew back as if pricked by needles.

The oppressive black qi that had earlier suffocated everyone actually showed the first sign of retreat.

Not dispersing, not dying out, but being forced to roll back by this old sword.

Like an old mat laid at a threshold, suddenly lifted from the front.

The altar spirit stood at the seat-eye’s center, the blood-red fissure on its brow opening and closing, the black qi churning violently within the crack.

Obviously it had not expected Lu Yuan to hide such a seat-subduing relic in his hand.

It stared at the sword with a gloomy focus, a low chuckle rumbling in its throat.

“Town Pass Seven Stars?”

“No wonder you dared to turn back.”

Lu Yuan said nothing. He raised his right hand, thumb bracing the sword guard.

The tip of the sword sank slightly, and the seven riveted stars along the blade lit in sequence, like a string of Big Dipper cold lights waking from frost.

That chill was not re cold, but a long-suppressed righteous force—darker the weight, the steadier and keener it beca.

This was the “subdue” technique the outer lands’ old Dao orders valued most.

The qi Lu Yuan had nearly lost under the altar spirit’s pressure re-condensed around him thanks to the old sword. The knot of surging oppression in his chest gradually eased, inch by inch.

“Zhou Heng, cut the left paper banner at the root.”

“Lin Zhaoxuan, don’t fling thunder everywhere, press it under the lamp.”

“Miss Song, hold the plate steady, don’t let it shift north.”

“Cheng’an, Erxiao, scatter salt along my sword line—don’t ss it up, make a white road.”

Lu Yuan’s voice was low, but terrifyingly steady.

This ti, he did not simply bear it. He used the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword to re-forge a lifeline along the entire stone path, bit by bit.

Although Zhou Heng already felt chest-tight and his wrist numb, he knew now was no ti to play tough.

He gritted his teeth and rushed to the edge of the left paper banner. With his short blade he sliced and cut, severing the banner’s root ties.

Once the banner snapped, the white faces attached above lost their anchor. Like dead leaves swept by an autumn gust, they scattered into a cascade of gray-white paper flakes.

Lin Zhaoxuan’s lips had gone pale from the altar’s pressure, but he was Daoist-born; when the tiny spark in him was forced out, it hardened into steel.

He forced himself to hold the Thunderclap Token, his right fingertips brushing the token’s surface, driving out the last remaining thunder.

Instead of striking the altar spirit head-on, he sent the thunder down along Lu Yuan’s sword path into the stone crevice.

“Let the thunder fall on the earth veins, shake your altar root!”

He bit the words out through clenched teeth.

When the thunder pattern hit the ground, a fine blue-white bolt crawled through the crack toward the overturned-seat lamp.

That lamp was the altar spirit’s eye for collecting souls. The thunder struck, and the gray-white fla in the wick jumped; the lamp’s shadow tilted by half an inch.

That half-inch was enough to ruffle the altar spirit’s seat-formation.

Song Qinghe’s heart leaped when she saw it. She hurriedly forced the sealing plate back, pressing its face into the north position to stop the lamp-shadow from taking root.

Her face drained of color, veins bulging on the backs of her hands, but she did not dare loosen an inch.

As for Wang Cheng’an and Xu Erxiao, they had no ti for thought. At Lu Yuan’s words, they scattered salt, stepped back, and laid the white line.

The grains of salt hit the black surface with tiny cracking sounds.

Like firewood splitting in a winter hearth, the ground that had been tangled by the seat-shadow finally gained a narrow strip of clean footing.

Lu Yuan stepped onto that narrow path and suddenly surged forward.

The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword ca down horizontally, not to strike a person but to sever the seat.

“Break the seat’s foundation first,” he murmured.

“Seven Stars subdues malevolence, sever your route of yin qi!”

The blade slanted up, cutting toward the biggest root of the seat-shadow under the altar spirit’s sleeve.

“Gasp—”

The stroke was lightning-fast and exact.

The black qi beneath the altar spirit’s sleeve shuddered as if an artery had been cut; the whole shadow-gallery of the seat hung frozen.

The paper banners along the stone path that had been closing in paused half a beat.

The white faces in midair lost their force and emitted thin, high tremors as if soone were sucking the air out from behind the paper.

“Its seat is loosening!”

Zhou Heng brightened and could not help calling out.

Lu Yuan did not answer. He stepped the Yu Steps in quick succession, pressing the sword forward along that thread of white qi.

For the first ti the altar spirit was truly pushed backward.

It spread its arms wide, trying to use a greater seat-annihilation to press them back, but the second star on the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword had already ignited.

The cold gleam along the blade’s spine coalesced into a line like frost from the northern sky, physically holding its yin force at bay.

“You think an old sword can overturn my altar?”

The black qi roiled in the altar spirit’s eye-sockets, its voice no longer as composed as before.

“You’ve only slowed half a breath.”

Lu Yuan’s eyes grew icier.

“Half a breath is enough.”

No sooner had he spoken than he locked his left hand into a formal seal—thumb hooked at the base of the ring finger, the middle two fingers planted upright—while his right hand depressed the sword. The tip pointed straight down toward the black earth.

This was not a killing move.

This was to subdue the earth’s qi.

The instant the sword tip struck, a dull hollow sound seed to echo from underground, like an old coffin lid knocked from the inside.

The most stable altar spot beneath the altar spirit trembled.

“The earth gate is loosening!”

Lin Zhaoxuan’s face changed and he shouted.

The altar spirit sensed it too. The fissure on its brow suddenly contracted, the whole face sinking into a darker shadow.

It stopped holding back. With a brutal push of both palms, black qi surged like a tide, paper shadows flew.

All those white faces that had only been clinging now opened mouths and let out shrill cries that were part childlike wail, part crow call, and they lunged toward Lu Yuan.

But Lu Yuan did not retreat.

He rode the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword’s seat-subduing power and charged into that wave of yin.

The sword rose like frost, fell like thunder.

The first stroke sheared three paper faces.

The second stroke severed two seat-shadows.

The third stroke drove straight at the altar eye under the altar spirit’s brow—within three inches!

The altar spirit finally showed real fury.

It raised its arms to block; the sleeve-shadow collided with the blade, producing a sharp, ear-piercing tear.

Black qi exploded like a chunk of old cloth violently ripped.

Lu Yuan’s palm shook, his right arm numbed almost to the shoulder.

He gritted his teeth and, using the montum of that collision, stomped forward. The sword twisted and, by the sa motion, sliced open a black split at the outer edge of the altar spirit’s wrist.

The cut was shallow, but a thick wave of yin qi leaked out.

For the first ti the altar spirit revealed clear pain.

“Now!”

Song Qinghe’s voice was hoarse with excitent.

Lu Yuan did not look back. He shouted under his breath:

“Don’t watch for fun—press its feet down!”

Song Qinghe snapped back to focus. The sealing plate suddenly plunged; the plate’s cold light pressed hard against the altar spirit’s feet.

Lin Zhaoxuan, drawing on his last breath, bit his finger and sared blood on the Thunderclap Token, forcing the leftover thunder into the ground crack.

Thunder, plate, salt, sword—four forces pressed down together.

The altar spirit’s most stable altar spot finally split.

The black earth under its feet cracked a hairline. The stone path gave a faint brittle sound, like an old tendon at the altar base being torn.

Those once-omnipresent seat-shadows disordered at once; the long gallery of yin lost half its montum.

Lu Yuan seized that sliver of looseness and surged three steps forward.

The third star on the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword lit up.

Where the blade passed, the yin seed sliced like night fog, each layer retreating.

The altar spirit was forced back two steps; the black intent in its brow rolled as if soone had pried a breath out of its throat.

It stared at Lu Yuan, and no longer with a sneer but with a real, growing apprehension.

“This sword of yours...it is not borrowed strength.”

“You press with it.”

Lu Yuan raised the sword, its tip pointing to the altar spirit’s brow. His voice was cold as frost on iron.

“Yes.”

“I’m not trying to see who’s fiercer than you.”

“I only compare who can hold the field down harder.”

Lu Yuan’s pressure forced the altar spirit back. Though outwardly it had retreated two steps, the altar’s qi-channel had been torn open with a seam.

But such beings hate conceding. The red crack on its brow snapped inward like a mouth being pressed closed but refusing to blink.

The black qi churned three tis in the fissure, then the whole face slowly sank.

That was not retreat, but “repositioning.”

“It’s changing its altar-foot!”

Lin Zhaoxuan’s face drained; his voice broke.

“Don’t let it move!”

Lu Yuan saw it too.

Earlier the altar spirit had pressed them by “sitting” on them. With the first turnaround broken, if it continued to cling to the original spot it would be whittled away by the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword.

But if, in that instant of looseness, it shifted its altar-foot half an inch, then gathered the surrounding paper banners, lamp shadows, black earth, and old malevolence back together, it could reweave the formation.

It wasn’t fleeing.

It was rebuilding its altar.

Lu Yuan’s gaze darkened. The ground beneath him was no longer the numbing death it had been monts ago.

The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword’s qi pressed ahead, splitting the seat-shadows to carve a white path.

Yet if that white path loosened even slightly, the altar spirit would crawl back through the shadow seam.

It was more patient than anyone imagined.

This ti it did not rush to pounce from the front. Instead it drew in the torn sleeve-shadows, reeling them all back.

The paper-banner remnants previously severed by Lu Yuan and shredded by Zhou Heng now twitched as if pulled by invisible threads.

One by one they gathered under the altar spirit’s feet.

The paper hands probing from the black earth did not idle either. A dozen gripped the stone crack and began to tug the loosened altar spot back into place.

“It’s patching the altar!”

Song Qinghe’s voice tightened.

“If it restores the seat-foot, our last round was for nothing!”

Lu Yuan knew they could not give it this chance.

Just as he prepared to surge forward, the altar spirit suddenly whipped out a sheet of black paper that slapped toward Lu Yuan’s face.

Lu Yuan raised his blade to block. Paper t sword with a dull thud.

This black paper was not ordinary; it seed to hold a trapped yin fla. Sliding along the blade, it raced down the spine and lunged for his wrist.

“Bite the hand!”

Zhou Heng shouted, forcing himself forward. He slashed with his short blade and intercepted the black paper’s path for Lu Yuan.

But in that cut, the trailing montum of the black paper smashed into his shoulder. He staggered violently and slamd into the stone wall, pain stealing his voice.

Seizing that half-breath, the altar spirit spread its arms. The shadow-wind along the stone path suddenly reversed.

What had been a retreating seat-annihilation now surged back like an incoming black tide.

The overturned-seat lamp’s shadow stretched long. The paper hand in its wick reached forward, fingers outstretched, as if to re-mark the living positions of Lu Yuan and the others.

The white faces on the paper banners rubbed and creaked, like they were pressing against one another to give way, or awaiting a new round of soul-collecting.

“Right side!”

Song Qinghe shouted urgently.

Lu Yuan sidestepped. The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword slashed obliquely and barely cleaved two lunging paper faces into fragnts.

But the fragnts did not fall. Instead they spun in midair and clung back to the seat-shadow like snowflakes, reassembling into a thinner, flatter mask.

“It’s feeding on the fragnted qi!”

“Don’t let it touch the shredded paper and remnants, or it will only grow!”

Before he finished, the altar spirit suddenly snatched at the stone edge. The black earth split and bits of broken cords, charred incense, and rotten sedan wood flew up like refuse it had taken from the old malevolence beneath the ground.

The mont those scraps hit the air, they rapidly grew outlines in the yin, forming blurred paper-people with shoulders and backs, slowly circling toward Lu Yuan and the others.

It was adding troops.

Not living ones, but forms.

As soon as a form took shape, the seat’s montum would strengthen a bit more.

“If it makes this whole patch 'sit' alive, we’re completely done for.”

Wang Cheng’an swallowed and his voice was hoarse.

“Why does it get more of them the more we hit it...”

Lu Yuan did not answer.

He watched the altar spirit. The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword slowly descended. The tip tilted slightly, as if waiting for the ideal strike point.

In the first turnaround he had used the sword to force it back a half-step and sever its surest altar-foot.

But once the altar spirit began patching, the rules changed.

This duel of thods was no longer about who could kill whom in one blow, but who would first wear down the other’s breath.

The altar spirit plainly understood this.

This ti it abandoned direct assault and instead spread a slow pressure, layering shadows, inching the whole stone path back into its altar field.

Each step was small, but each step pressed on their breathing.

Lu Yuan looked at it and realized the crux.

The most troubleso thing about this creature was not ferocity, but that after one retreat it could reclaim the field bit by bit.

“It’s trying to drag it out,” he said softly.

“Until we disperse ourselves first.”

Lin Zhaoxuan murmured an agreent and gritted his teeth.

“We can’t follow its tempo,” he said.

Lu Yuan nodded.

But even so, their situation was worse than before.

Though the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword could subdue for a ti, continuous seat-suppressing was beginning to show fatigue.

The fourth dark star on the spine was faintly glowing now, but each ti it flared, Lu Yuan’s wrist felt poured through with cold iron, too heavy to lift.

Worse, the altar spirit had learned to avoid the edge.

It no longer absorbed the blade directly. Instead it used seat-shadows, paper faces, and black paper to grind, tangle, and exhaust them.

Each ti Lu Yuan tried to close in, a layer of yin would spring up at his side, nudging the sword route half an inch aside.

That half inch was enough for the altar spirit to evade a killing point and to slowly pull the situation back.

“It’s pushing us under the lamp.”

Song Qinghe suddenly realized with a tremor in her voice.

“It wants to use the lamp to reclaim positions!”

Everyone looked up at once.

Sure enough, the overturned-seat lamp was now wrapped in a thicker shadow. The gray-white fla in the wick swelled again.

The paper hand under the lamp slowly lifted, as if ready to drop down over Lu Yuan’s group at any mont.

Once the lamp-shadow touched ground, the altar spirit could use the shade to return, reasserting control of the whole seat field.

Lu Yuan’s heart tightened.

“Don’t let the shadow fall!”

He barked, then bit the tip of his tongue. A mouthful of blood spat onto the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword.

The seven rivets on the blade suddenly flared the fourth star.

This was no test; it pushed the sword force to its limit.

“Heavenly stars light the path, earthly malevolence retreat from the seat!”

“I borrow your Big Dipper seven lights; I won’t lend you even a mouthful of yin rice!”

“Break!”

The sword light slashed horizontally, aid straight for the shadow-root beneath the overturned-seat lamp.

The altar spirit could not restrain itself.

It roared in fury and threw its whole body forward. Black qi swelled and paper banners shuddered.

The old malice in the stone walls seed heaved up, disintegrating into scattered shadows that lunged at Lu Yuan.

In that instant, Lu Yuan’s vision nearly went black. He felt hands grabbing his arms, pulling at his legs, choking at his throat from all sides.

Zhou Heng charged to shield him, but the mont he entered the shadow circle his feet were bound by two paper ropes and he fell heavily to the ground.

Lin Zhaoxuan desperately raised the token, but the Thunderclap Token had already cracked a third groove; the mont the thunder flared, it was snuffed by the altar qi.

Song Qinghe tried to compress the plate, but the sealing plate made a soft crack; a hairline gap opened at its rim and cold air burst outward.

“The plate is breaking!”

She cried out.

Black qi churned in the altar spirit’s eyes and the fissure on its brow began opening and closing again.

“See it?”

It chuckled low.

“Your previous turnaround only taught to step back and relearn how to eat you.”

“Now, it’s ti for round two.”

After saying this, it suddenly lifted its hand and the whole swirl of shadow-seat tightened inward at once.

Lu Yuan felt the ground drop. Although the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword’s tip still neared the lamp-shadow, he was yanked back a step by that sudden contracting yin.

That single step left the blade half an inch from the shadow-root.

Half an inch was all the altar spirit needed to reconnect the seat montum.

The paper-banner faces all uttered high, thin chittering laughs, like hunters seeing their prey fall back into the net.

The situation was dragged back to the cliff edge.

And this ti, it was fiercer than before.