Chapter Fifty: Fu Yang Unleashes His Might

Police officers were armed with guns, while Ah Huang wielded his magic; bullets and burning talismans whirled through the air, and the peachwood sword struck again and again with dull thuds into the rotting flesh of the walking corpses... This was a fierce battle between humans and ghosts!

But alas, the officers’ ammunition and stamina were ultimately limited. In less than two minutes, they were forced to retreat step by step by the swarm of corpses, their circle shrinking ever smaller.

They were on the verge of being completely overwhelmed by the horde...

It was a critical moment!

Suddenly, a roar, overflowing with boundless dominance, ferocity, and a sense of superiority, echoed from behind. Shan Shan and the others felt their ears nearly deafened, their legs weak, a psychological illusion as if they might collapse and kneel at any moment.

“Fu Yang?”

“Little Yang?”

“What’s going on?!”

Everyone engaged in the desperate struggle against the walking corpses was startled, unsure what change had come over Fu Yang, who had been unconscious and protected within their circle. Only Ah Huang, while still fighting, managed to look back, and the scene shocked him.

Fu Yang was already on his feet, swaying unsteadily.

His eyes had turned completely black, deep as ink!

His expression was cold, and even his features seemed sharper—his nose high, lips like a blade, and at the corners of his mouth lingered a faint, icy smile, dangerous and alluring.

Wisps of black mist, twisting like little snakes, streamed from his body, distorting the air around him. The scene was blurred, unclear.

The thick white fog that had enveloped them fled swiftly before the black mist emanating from Fu Yang, scattering as if mice fleeing a cat. In the blink of an eye, the fog within tens of meters around Zhao Shanshan and the others dissipated, allowing them to clearly see the encroaching walking corpses.

“Fu Yang? What’s wrong, Fu Yang!”

Zhao Shanshan, who had turned to look, was anxious at the sight.

Ah Huang was shaken to his core.

Though he didn’t know what was happening to Fu Yang, the cold, violent, dangerous aura of utter disdain radiating from him made Ah Huang’s heart tremble.

“What a terrifying strength…”

The walking corpses seemed intimidated by Fu Yang’s presence; their attacks slowed, as if hesitating.

The corpse controller lurking behind the horde, seeing his “treasures” stop moving, was puzzled, suspecting the disciple from Dragon Tiger Mountain had cast some powerful spell.

“Humph! Kid, you’re still too green to challenge me!”

He pulled out another bell identical to the first, one in each hand, and shook them simultaneously.

Jingling, jingling—the urgent ringing was like a command, compelling the corpses to obey.

Then…

Roar, roar, roar!

The previously sluggish, decaying corpses turned ferocious again, lunging at the officers with outstretched hands, clawing and snapping their sharp teeth.

Fu Yang stood motionless, but as the bells rang, his ink-black eyes suddenly widened. From his throat burst a guttural word: “Die!!!”

An invisible force seemed to surge—Fu Yang’s right sleeve disintegrated into powder, and black stripes appeared on his skin, running from his arm to his fingertips like sinister tattoos.

A powerful wave of energy erupted, a violent wind arose, and Fu Yang slowly raised his hand before him…

Ah Huang’s expression changed, and he shouted in terror: “Get down! Everyone, get down!”

Though confused, the officers trusted him and quickly threw themselves to the ground, covering their heads.

It all happened in an instant. From Fu Yang’s right hand surged a colossal black shadow, forming a giant claw, twenty or thirty meters long!

Though only a faint shadow, the claw bulged with muscle like steel, its surface covered in dense black scales, every detail visible.

With a sweep forward, a dozen rotting corpses were struck and hurled into the thick fog behind.

Then the enormous claw circled, scooping up several dozen of the nearest corpses and lifting them into the air. Its sharp talons clenched tightly.

Boom!!!

A thunderous crash. The giant claw’s shadow crushed dozens of corpses into pulp. Rotting, fetid pieces of flesh rained down like a storm on the prostrate officers, who cried out in misery. Ah Huang, gentlemanly, shielded Zhao Shanshan from most of the falling gore...

The giant claw vanished after its devastating blow, but its overwhelming aura left the corpse controller trembling in the back of the horde.

“What is that?!”

He shivered, directing nearby corpses to lift him up, and saw a figure cloaked in black mist, eyes black as pitch, staring his way.

That gaze was cold, merciless, disdainful of all living things!

Even one who killed without remorse, who reveled in controlling corpses, felt fear in his heart.

“Who is he? Is this some powerful dark sorcery?”

The corpse controller was stunned, but still frantically shook his bells, driving the remaining corpses to press forward…

At this point, the officers lying around Fu Yang began to recover, overjoyed.

“A true master hides his skills! Who would have thought Brother Fu was so formidable.”

“Indeed! Master Huang, what kind of magic is Brother Fu using?”

“It’s so cool! I don’t even want to be a cop anymore—I want to be a Taoist priest with you guys…”

Ah Huang was exasperated.

These unreliable fellows!

Only Zhao Shanshan, tugging Ah Huang’s sleeve, asked anxiously, “Is Fu Yang alright?”

Ah Huang shook his head, saying he didn’t know.

Roar, roar, roar.

The walking corpses pressed in again.

Fu Yang tilted his head, his brow furrowed, as if puzzled that these creatures dared defy him. At this moment, he no longer possessed human thought, but resembled a wild beast... acting purely out of primal defense against danger!

He opened his mouth.

A crackling sound, like electricity, arose.

A fist-sized black sphere appeared before Fu Yang’s mouth, swelling in an instant to the size of a water barrel.

Roar!

Fu Yang spat it forth—wrapped in thunder and lightning, it shot toward the corpse controller held aloft by his minions.

“Mao Mountain’s Yin Thunder Curse!!! This is definitely the aura of the Yin Thunder Curse. My god, this is a Taoist spell that only a master of Mao Mountain’s Three Registers can perform.”

Ah Huang’s shock was beyond measure. He could not fathom how his childhood friend, who had only recently begun to study the Taoist arts, had mastered the secret techniques of Mao Mountain.