The Invincible Female Ghost Is A Bit Of A Hopeless Romantic Chapter 254: "Lock!" "Seal!" "Sever!"

The instant the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword fell, everyone heard an extrely faint cracking sound.

It was not the crisp snap of wood breaking, nor the dull thud of tal striking stone.

It was more like the thin wisp of cold air leaking from the deep seams of an old coffin buried underground for many years, its lid being pried forcibly open.

It was so faint it could almost be mistaken for an illusion.

But the ritual spirit's reaction proved that the thing had indeed been struck.

On the surface of the black wooden wedge, a web of white cracks first appeared. Then the cracks spread rapidly. The vague outlines of human faces deep within the fractures began to twist, shrink, and shatter.

It was as if countless thin sheets of skin were being forcibly squeezed together, emitting a continuous stream of fine, whimpering sounds.

The paper fla in the overturned-seat lamp suddenly dimd. The lamp's fire shrank from a central white point to a single, bluish-gray dying spark in an instant, as if it were about to go out completely in the next mont.

The ritual spirit let out an unprecedented scream.

The sound was neither human nor beastly. It was more like dozens of pieces of old paper, soaked through in ice water and then violently wrung dry, producing a twisted, cracking, heart-wrenching rasp.

The entire stone path trembled with it. The black surface in the stone crevices seed to co alive from the vibration, madly bulging, collapsing, and bulging again.

It was as if a colossal thing underground was about to burst forth from the earth.

"There's sothing else under it!"

Lin Zhaoxuan's face was pale, and he shouted out almost instinctively.

Lu Yuan did not look up. His entire body weight was pressed down on the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword, the blade deeply wedged into the crack of the black wooden wedge.

In that instant, the veins on his arms bulged, and the knuckles on his wrist bone turned white from excessive force. Yet he did not relax his grip in the slightest.

Because he knew this sword strike was not about severing, but about "prying."

Prying open the altar bone was the only way to truly touch the ritual spirit's lifeline.

Sure enough, under the pressure of the sword's force, the crack in the black wooden wedge suddenly widened, and a small, blackened old cloth corner flipped out from within.

The edge of the cloth corner was sewn with extrely fine red threads, the stitches neat and tidy, like the sealing seams specially used to close old funeral feast shrouds.

The mont the cloth corner appeared, the half of the human silhouette on the ritual spirit that had still been maintaining its shape instantly dissolved.

The entire being suddenly collapsed downward, as if its skeleton had been pulled away.

"Old altar cloth!"

Song Qinghe's voice trembled.

"It hid its innermost layer of altar skin inside the wood!"

In old folk customs, so evil altars were not supported by a single evil thought or a breath of malevolent energy.

Instead, they had to use remnants left behind from old funeral grounds, old sacrifices, and old pressure wards, wrapped layer by layer into an "altar cloth," and then nurtured by Yin energy.

Once the altar cloth was pinned down, the altar master within would find it hard to escape.

Lu Yuan's sword strike this ti, though it had not yet completely shattered the altar cloth, had already forced the ritual spirit to reveal its most vulnerable layer.

The ritual spirit finally went completely mad.

The black energy on its body suddenly all surged back into its chest. The crack on its forehead widened like an opening eye.

In the next breath, it raised its hands, grabbed the shadows on both sides of its face, and violently tore.

With one tear, the skin-like shadow was forcibly pulled half an inch out, revealing beneath it another face, paler, stiffer, more like the face of a dead puppet.

"Face-Shifting!"

Zhou Heng gasped in shock.

"It's trying to switch from the outer altar to the inner altar!"

Hearing this, Lu Yuan's gaze grew colder.

This kind of trick might have been able to drag things out elsewhere, but within his formation of suppression, face-shifting was equivalent to self-entrapnt.

Because once it peeled off its outermost Yin guise, it ant it had to expose its true altar form.

This was the mont Lu Yuan had been waiting for.

His right hand suddenly slid off the sword's handle, reversed, and pressed down on the guard. Leveraging this rebound force, he spun half a step away from his original spot.

At the sa ti, his left hand ford an extrely steady and heavy finger seal.

The finger seal was unadorned: the thumb pressed tightly against the middle finger's root, the index finger slightly bent forward, the remaining three fingers folded in, the palm facing inward, and the wrist bone dropping.

It was like pressing an invisible, heavy stone into the base of his palm.

The mont this presence was released, even the surrounding wind seed to slow down.

Lu Yuan chanted in a low voice:

"Four gates return to position, Yin altar closes the path."

"I won't fight you over form, only over the altar's opening."

"You shift your face, I shift my life."

"Sup—!"

As the final syllable fell, the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword swept horizontally.

The sword light was not ostentatious, but like a river of ice falling sideways, directly pressing down on the exact mont the ritual spirit was shifting its face.

It had already torn half of its outer black shadow open, about to reveal the deeper vital point within, but was violently cut off by this sword strike.

The half-torn black shadow instantly froze. It was like a piece of clothing put on halfway, but one sleeve was nailed to the table—unable to advance, unable to retreat.

The ritual spirit's entire body shook violently, letting out a nearly hysterical roar of fury.

It opened its mouth and spewed a massive cloud of pitch-black mist. The mist was mixed with fine shreds of paper, gray fire, and a certain rancid, sweet, rotting sll.

The sll hit the noses of the group, causing dizziness and blurred vision. Even the stone path before them montarily appeared in double images.

Zhou Heng staggered, nearly knocked over by the black mist.

Song Qinghe bit down hard on her tongue, barely managing not to vomit on the spot.

It was then that Lu Yuan spoke.

He did not shout loudly, nor did he recite the incantation in a clear voice. Instead, in an extrely low, deep, and cold tone, he slowly said:

"You want to confuse the eyes with the rotting sll."

"You want to disturb the spirit with the paper shreds."

"You want to send your inner form out while I sever the altar."

"But you forgot, what's most plentiful beyond the Great Wall is the deathly qi of corpses buried for decades in the frozen soil."

"I've seen these tricks too many tis."

As he said this, his right shoulder was already trembling slightly.

The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword was too heavy. It could suppress the evil altar, but it also suppressed him.

After a series of forceful attacks, his blood and qi were surging, and the wound on his chest felt as if it were on fire. But Lu Yuan forcibly swallowed the surging counterflow of blood, not letting a single sign show on his face.

How could the ritual spirit not hear the sarcasm in his words? It flew into a rage, suddenly spread its hands, and forcibly tore its outer layer of black shadow into two halves.

As the black shadow split, the hundred-faced paper banners on both sides of the stone path began to flutter madly. The paper faces on the banner surfaces started to open their mouths in unison, as if trying to emit sounds from the paper.

"It's summoning the remnants of the outer altar!"

Lin Zhaoxuan almost shouted.

"You can't let it open its mouth. Once it does, it will trigger the Yin Chant!"

A cold gleam flashed in Lu Yuan's eyes.

He would stall no longer.

"Zhou Heng, retreat three steps to the left, sever the banner roots!"

"Song Qinghe, suppress the lamp shadow on the north position, don't let it flow back!"

"Cheng'an, replenish the salt half a circle around my feet, quickly!"

"Lin Zhaoxuan, switch the thunder nail positions, nail three feet to the right of the altar's heart!"

By this ti, everyone had been completely caught up in Lu Yuan's suppressive montum. Hearing the orders, they imdiately acted.

Zhou Heng cut the left banner pole in one stroke. The banner surface instantly lost its support, and half of the white-faced paper banner ca crashing down with a rustle.

Song Qinghe pressed her palm onto the sealing plate. The faint light on the plate's surface barely managed to stabilize the north position from dispersing.

Wang Cheng'an bit his teeth until they bled. With trembling hands, he spread the last handful of salt towards Lu Yuan's feet.

Lin Zhaoxuan, enduring the backlash, slanted the Thunderclap Token. The remaining thunder within the token was channeled along the ground crevice, forcing its way towards the right side of the ritual spirit.

These actions seed chaotic, but they were precisely the second layer of encirclent and killing that Lu Yuan had planned.

The ritual spirit was forced into a corner with no escape. Its black energy scattered and crashed about wildly.

Finally, it no longer cared about any semblance of form. It suddenly flung open its arms and, from the crack on its chest, pulled out an extrely thin, extrely long, nearly transparent grayish-white thread.

The mont the thread appeared, the Yin cold in the air intensified several tis over, as if sothing that had long been sleeping had been hooked by it.

"Soul Thread!"

Lu Yuan's gaze turned icy cold.

This was its most ruthless move.

The ritual spirit actually intended to use its own remaining soul thread to hook onto that deeper, older burial mound altar below.

This ant the ritual spirit before them was not the final form. It was rely a "living shadow" pieced together from people, burial mounds, seat bones, and lamp shadows.

What was truly pressing down below, nurturing it, was sothing older, more Yin, and far harder to sever.

Lu Yuan's heart tightened. He finally understood why this evil altar was so troubleso.

It was not a single ghost entity, but an entire corrupted, old sacrificial structure from beyond the Great Wall.

"Watch carefully," he suddenly said in a low voice. The sound was as light as if he were talking to himself, but every word was heavy.

"It's not trying to escape."

"It's trying to wake up that thing below."

The mont the words fell, the grayish-white soul thread, like a living snake, suddenly burrowed deep into the ground.

A thin crack burst open in the black soil at the center of the stone path. A wave of Yin energy, darker, deader, and heavier than before, rushed up to et them.

The mont the energy appeared, everyone shuddered almost simultaneously.

It was like a coffin being opened.

Like a well being overturned.

Like a dead man who should have long been buried deep in the frozen soil was slowly sitting up.

The ritual spirit cackled wildly, its voice sharp and broken, as if it had finally seen a sliver of hope for turning the tables.

"So what if you suppress ?"

"So what if you seal ?"

"The fate below is not sothing you can sever!"

But Lu Yuan raised his head amidst the laughter.

His face was already as pale as paper, and the blood at the corner of his mouth was not yet wiped clean, but his eyes were as sharp as a blade.

"Who says I can't?"

He suddenly stood the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword upright before him, its tip pointing directly at the newly opened ground crevice. Then, he brought the five fingers of his left hand together and heavily pressed them down onto the spine of the sword.

The press was ferocious, as if he were forcing his very last breath of energy into the blade.

Imdiately after, in a voice that was almost a growl, he intoned a series of extrely short but heavy incantations, word by word:

"Big Dipper shines upon the body, Southern Dipper settles the soul."

"Mountain gate's old fire, illuminates your burial gate."

"Cold wind from beyond the Great Wall, chills your soul thread."

"Yin altar retreats not, Proper Aura returns not."

"I use blood as fire, to seal three feet beneath your altar."

"Urgently, urgently, as by the law's command—press!"

The mont the word "press" was uttered, the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword suddenly emitted a deep, resonant hum.

It was not the sound of tal, nor the sound of wind. It was more like an ancient bell buried deep beneath the earth being violently struck from under a layer of ice.

The star studs on the sword's spine connected into a single line in that instant.

The seventh star was the guide, the sixth star the bridge, the fifth star the bone. The scattered cold light poured down along the sword's body.

It forcibly pressed an even deeper circular imprint onto the ground at Lu Yuan's feet.

The mont the circular imprint landed, the churning ground crevice suddenly froze.

The ecstasy on the ritual spirit's face hadn't even taken shape before it violently turned into terror.

Because it discovered that its soul thread had not drilled into the ground crevice, but had instead been reversely pinned mid-air by Lu Yuan's "press."

It had been just a fraction of a second away from awakening the old burial mound altar below.

But that "fraction" was now ruthlessly crushed.

Lu Yuan had cut off its most vital thread of hope.

The ritual spirit finally truly collapsed.

It began to retreat wildly. Black energy swirled in chaos, paper faces scattered everywhere, and the overturned-seat lamp almost exploded in mid-air, spitting out a string of gray-blue sparks.

Like an old Yin lamp convulsing for the last ti before its death.

It tried to stitch itself back together, but every ti it attempted a repair, Lu Yuan's suppression seal beneath his feet would brutally push it back down.

"You... who the hell are you..."

For the first ti, its voice carried genuine fear.

Lu Yuan did not answer.

After Lu Yuan's word "press" fell, the entire stone path seed to be violently held down by an invisible giant hand from the sky.

The overturned-seat lamp no longer swung wildly.

The paper banners no longer rolled madly.

Even the Yin cold that had welled up from the ground crevice seed to be tightly sealed by a thick layer of ice shell, unable to seep out even half an inch.

The ritual spirit was frozen in place. Black energy was still seeping out from the crack in its chest.

But the mont the black energy appeared, it was forced back by the starlight radiance pressed out by the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword.

The shadows on its body collapsed layer by layer, like burnt paper ash being snuffed out by the wind.

The face it had barely managed to prop up began to deform: its eye sockets sank, and the corners of its mouth twitched.

The human form it had barely maintained was now just a chaotic, writhing mass of malevolent energy.

For the first ti, it showed genuine fear.

It was not the usual ferocious terror of ghosts and monsters, but the panic of a creature seeing its vital point nailed shut, with no way to turn the tables.

But Lu Yuan gave it no more ti to catch its breath.

He took a step forward, and the salt circle at his feet glowed brightly in response.

Borrowing the montum of the suppression, like a cold blade drawn from the snow, he pressed directly towards the ritual spirit.

The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword was held horizontally before his chest. The seven stars on its spine were already connected in a line. The sword's edge had not yet arrived, but the oppressive coldness had already fallen first.

"You borrowed seat-annihilation shadows, you borrowed paper faces, you borrowed overturned lamps, you borrowed Yin altars."

"You've been borrowing for too long."

"It's ti to pay back."

The ritual spirit suddenly opened its mouth, as if trying to spit out so other Yin technique.

But Lu Yuan didn't give it the chance to speak at all.

His left hand suddenly ford a seal, thumb locking the center, index finger standing upright, the remaining fingers drawn in together, palm pressing inward, wrist bone dropping heavily.

The posture was not flamboyant, but it was like an iron gate closing, firmly locked in the void.

Then, he chanted a short and heavy mantra in a low voice:

"Heaven clear, earth tranquil, Proper Aura returns to the city."

"Seven Stars above, a hundred evil entities have no na."

"I now hold the sword, I do not ask about Yin voices."

"I suppress your seat bone, I extinguish your remnant form."

"Seal—!"

As the final word was uttered, the Town Pass Seven Stars Sword suddenly emitted a clear, resonant ring.

The seventh star blazed to full light.

In that instant, the sword light did not spread. Instead, it contracted, like a bolt of cold lightning descending from the northern sky, directly nailing itself onto the crack in the center of the ritual spirit's forehead.

The ritual spirit's entire body shuddered violently, letting out a scream sharp enough to pierce the eardrums. It was pushed backward by the sword light.

Lu Yuan took advantage of the mont, twisting his wrist and slashing the blade horizontally.

The slash was incredibly fast, so fast that others only saw a flash. The thickest mass of black energy on the ritual spirit's chest was forcibly cut open.

No blood flowed from where the blade had cut through the black energy. Instead, streams of extrely fine black threads leaked out, like burnt hemp twine or shredded paper souls.

The ritual spirit tried to close itself up.

Lu Yuan was faster.

He shifted his footing, his body spinning half a circle close to the sword's montum. The Town Pass Seven Stars Sword hooked back with the flow, tearing the black energy opening on its chest even wider.

At the sa ti, his left hand rapidly tapped three tis in the air. Each tap was like landing on an invisible lock.

"Lock!"

"Seal!"

"Sever!"