Chapter 564: Chapter 536: The Curse of Ambush_3
From the beginning, she had been utterly serious. Even Baili An choosing to battle in this valley was part of her calculations.
Ning Feiyan was most skilled at observation. She had witnessed several of Baili An’s battles in Ghost Mountain.
His abilities, his weapons—she might not understand them completely, but she grasped at least eighty percent.
Yet Baili An never knew what sort of capabilities or hidden cards Ning Feiyan possessed.
The moonlight was ghostly, the remnant moon imbued with a hint of crimson that was hazy and drifted apart, casting a blood-red halo amid the gloomy clouds.
Ning Feiyan gazed at the ghostly Ghost Soldiers erging from the earth in the valley. Backed by the shadowy part of the valley, netherworld energy had nurtured a group of Ghost Soldiers that were extrely formidable. The resentnt was already imnsely heavy, and with the control of Yin Jade and Ghost Tears Pearl, these Ghost Soldiers underwent a qualitative transformation.
Each Ghost Soldier here possessed strength comparable to the Peak of Chengling.
The resentful souls that had died on the battlefield were countless; the black energy erging from the cracks seed endless and infinite.
Suddenly, a mysterious and insidious smile appeared on Ning Feiyan’s face, “Do you know why the Six Rivers of the Demon World have beco the most ancient and terrifying nightmare of this continent?”
“Tonight… I shall tell you.”
She plucked a strand of her hair, entwining it around her fingertips as the dark essence dissipated, turning blood-red.
The soft red hair twined around her pinky finger like a red string of fate, tying into a delicate butterfly knot.
With that strand of red hair on her fingertip, she swept into the endless surge of black energy.
Her purple silhouette danced within the black Yin Dance; the red hair gently brushed past, creating an odd silhouette, as if calling out to sothing, yet also ambushing sothing.
She was like a whirlpool, plunging into the valley, where neither man nor ghost could escape.
The flute music gradually ceased. When Ning Feiyan’s figure entered the tide of black-clad Ghost Soldiers, his flute music suffered a great backlash; deep in his soul, he felt trendous distortion and pain, continuously corroding his spirit platform.
Her shadow was black, a reflection even the black energy of the Ghost Soldiers couldn’t Devour, like an inversion stretching out from the Abyss, spreading and covering amid the Ghost Soldiers.
The hair between her fingers was deeply blood-red. Within this shade of red, countless deceased souls mourned and wept together; souls shattered, and resentful spirits wailed.
She was like a curse andering through the black netherworld soil.
The Ghost Soldiers had long since died, their flesh rotted and their blood dried up.
Yet, whenever that purple silhouette flickered past, her clean, fair fingertips always tore open a burst of crimson.
She let these beings, constantly accompanied by death, feel the despair of death once again.
The piercing screams were incessant, breaking through clouds, each cry shrilling.
Gradually, the babbling streams stained deeply with blood-red.
Ning Feiyan slowly approached one side of the creek. Below her skirt’s hem, corpses of ghosts lay scattered like a mortal ghost prison; she blood like an Evil Flower amidst the white bones of the ghost prison.
The two split streams of the creek struggled to rge, the crack between still churning with black energy as if new Ghost Soldiers were awakening.
Ning Feiyan glanced indifferently, and the restless black energy within the fissure suddenly solidified.
Finally, under her gaze, it retreated slowly like a hibernating venomous snake into the depths of its nest.
The streams converged, the remnant moon hid behind clouds, and the screams finally ceased.
Under the lingering, bleak moonlight, Ning Feiyan’s beautiful and pale face was veiled with a barely concealed layer of brutal and indifferent murderous intent, her cheeks stained with a sar of crimson blood, making her eyebrows and eyes stunningly striking.
She was like a blood-stained sword in the black netherworld soil.
Baili An felt icy all over, an inexplicable itch deep in his throat, a rush of bloody sweetness erging. He coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood, with Blood Butterflies spreading their wings from within.
The intense pain deep in his throat made it impossible to utter a sound, as if his vocal cords had been slashed.
Unbeknownst to him, she had implanted the butterfly poison inside him!
The blood-soaked Blood Butterfly flew back to Ning Feiyan’s fingertips. She offered a smile and said, “Do you know? Every ti I kill, I prefer to use my own blade.”
Baili An had yet to comprehend the aning of her words when behind him, Hong Zhuang erged like a ghost, her black robe silently fluttering, and cold, empty eyes beneath the half-moon mask gripped a plain knife glinting with a ghostly red hue.
The blade pierced fiercely from behind Baili An, penetrating his entire chest.
This knife seed specially prepared in advance to deal with him.
As the knife drank blood, Baili An felt in that instant as his entire body’s blood was rapidly sucked and Devoured by the blade, even the Corpse Pearl’s power inside him nearly depleted.
The woman who grinned at him in the dark night, her figure increasingly blurred.
He, returned to the darkness.
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