Chapter 94: A Very Fierce Female Driver

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This was the claw of an unknown, mysterious giant beast.

It was powered by the fierce ghost energy Fu Yang had absorbed and stored at his heart. Its power was immense, able to injure both spirits and physical bodies.

Of course, this time its deployment was much weaker than when he awakened it before at the Zhenhui Silk Factory.

If we compare it to online game talk, it was like that brief “invincible phase” right after a big upgrade.

The Flying-Head Curse and the Little-Imp Curse lunged in with fierce momentum, and suddenly a gigantic beast’s paw jutted out of the black mist.

“What the hell is that thing?”

Tuka Cha was suddenly alarmed, a wave of danger rising in his chest. He turned aside at once, dodging the frontal strike of that ink-black giant claw.

“Try dodging me, you fool—die!”

Fu Yang shouted, already drenched in sweat, as he kept control of the mysterious giant claw from the black fog.
He found the Flying-Head Curse too fast to keep up with, so he could only sweep right with a grab.

He trapped the Little-Imp in the claws and held it tight.
He squeezed hard, then flung it backward in one brutal motion.

The miserable little imp shot out like a meteor, crashing into a thick wall with a heavy boom, dropping to the ground with a wet thud. It went utterly still.

“My little imp!”

Tuka Cha howled. His speed rose again. The tangled organs dragging beneath his skull writhed violently, spraying out great clumps of blood mist. Within that red haze ghostly figures floated faintly, cold gusts whistling through, and piercing shrieks rose.

This was … the Hundred-Flowers Flying-Head Curse.

The deadliest among the Flying-Head arts.

Its practitioner, if he can drain a victim’s blood to the last drop, can also lock that soul in place, binding it to increase his strength. The spreading blood mist is fiercely corrosive—much crueler than ordinary sulfuric or hydrochloric acid.

No one expected Tuka Cha to be practicing this ultimate form.

“Damn brat. My Hundred-Flowers Flying-Head Curse will corrode you into a blood-zombie, then I’ll drain you down to a dry husk!”

When he unleashed that spell, Tuka Cha grew instantly overconfident.
He had even chosen to go head-on against Fu Yang’s Ghost-Dao Giant Claw!

A crack sounded.

The ebony giant claw really split apart, dissolving into black mist again and drifting back near Fu Yang’s right palm.

Though the Ghost Way was overpowering, the gap between their levels was enormous. That Fu Yang had survived this long without being injured was sheer gifted fortune—truly a miracle.

“Shit! Even this mysterious giant claw couldn’t stop this damn demon trickster. Are we really doomed for tragedy tonight?”

Fu Yang felt no pleasure in it.

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“Die! Hundred-Flowers Bloody Mist!”

This was an advanced extension of the Hundred-Flowers Flying-Head Curse. The imprisoned souls of wronged dead were now Tuka Cha’s slaves, and they had come to harm him too.

Wails, wails, wails…

Through the ghostly screaming, seven or eight spectral heads, dragging blood-red corrosive fog, flew toward Fu Yang.

“Hold them off!”

He used what little strength he had left, gathering the great mass of Ghost-Dao black fog beside his right hand into a wall in front of him, barely blocking the oncoming heads and blood-red haze.

Sssss, sssss...
The blood mist and black vapor fought with each other, making a sound like oil spluttering in a pan—harsh and grating.

Fu Yang’s legs were already weak and his body was wet with sweat.
At his current level, using the Ghost Way consumed an incredible amount of energy.

He had no strength left to fight on.

Only then did he realize, with desperate longing, how much he craved greater power and a more profound path.

“I’ve trained for too little time. Give me six months and I could easily cut this demon down,” he thought bitterly. “No, we’ll probably call this one a game over, and twenty years from now I’ll be back on top again…”
He could only watch, helpless, as the black fog ahead was slowly chewed away.

In truth, he might even be proud.

To use the Flying-Head Curse, Tuka Cha was throwing his ultimate move—essentially all-out. The burst of power, in a short span, was equivalent to a Hua Xia Daoist’s Second-Rank True Adept.

Fu Yang, still a mage not yet formally invested, stood against him for half an hour and did not fall behind, spanning a two-rank gap between them.
If this result got around, even the heavyweights of the Daoist world would be rattled!

“Kid, I won’t let you die so easily. I’ll make you endure endless pain, then watch your blood be sucked dry while you’re still alive. Gah, gah, gah.”

Seeing victory all but decided, Tuka Cha began showing off again, circling in the air, taunting Fu Yang.
As they say, when you show off, you invite the thunder.

No thunder now—but something else was already coming.

BANG! BANG! BANG!!!

Suddenly, at the alley mouth behind them, a roar of a huge mechanical engine tore through the air.

At the same time, two sharp beams of blinding white light swept in.

The screech of tires on pavement followed—a black high-spec Land Rover tore down the lane at extreme speed!

No time to react after noticing it.

Still circling in the air, cursing and showing off, taunting him, Tuka Cha watched from above as disaster struck him in style.

The Land Rover smashed directly into the vudoo priest.

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BANG!

There came a sickening clang of steel and flesh. The Flying-Head practitioner, dragging a grotesque mass of organs, was hurled off entirely by the impact.

He smashed into the wall behind Fu Yang.
As the core of the Flying-Head attack took a crushing blow, the blood mist and those faint ghost heads disappeared.

“Fu Yang—move!”

a spirited woman’s voice called from inside the Land Rover.

“Shit, it’s a woman driver!”

Fu Yang ducked quickly, pressing his back tightly against the alley walls, nearly peeing himself from the shock.
The black Land Rover surged again, and with the wall so close it still floored the accelerator.

“Damn, bro—what a badass lady driver! When she goes hard, she does it like a maniac willing to die for it…”

Tuka Cha had just been stunned by the first collision and should have died, but he didn’t. Wobbling like a drunk, he had barely re-hovered when the black Land Rover came at him again.

“Son of a—”

The doomed vudoo priest only had time to bark one freshly learned Chinese curse before he was smashed into the wall a second time. This time, the car’s full front end struck him, pinning him to the wall and grinding into him.

Fu Yang thought he could even hear organs rupturing.

“Not enough time to explain—get in!”

The woman’s voice came again from the driver’s seat.
“Still a pro driver? Damn… I’m saved!”

Fu Yang felt relief surge inside. He flung open the passenger door in front of him and dropped himself in.

No time to fasten the seatbelt.

A low whine sounded, and the woman slammed into reverse.

BANG!

Fu Yang’s head hit the front crossbar and rose into a giant lump.
The pain made tears spill from him at once, and they would not stop.

“Ugh… that vudoo priest back there didn’t hurt me this badly.”

The black Land Rover reversed out of the dead-end alley, drifted around a corner, and sped toward the road outside.

(First update!)