Thunder booming, lightning striking as divine punishment, illuminating the dark mountain peak.
The coffin lid standing on the peak was struck and sent flying, along with the yin energy inside, all burnt to nothingness by the dazzling electricity; the eerie shadows of black wind vanished without a trace.
When all the dust had settled, Song Yutang's full chest heaved rapidly, taking several deep breaths before gradually calming down.
She tidied the hair that had fallen around her, retying it with a hairband, and turned around suavely, walking toward her companion.
"You succeeded."
Jiang Yunmei, sitting on the ground, showed a happy smile toward her.
Her forehead was covered in sweat, her expression weary. Although she hadn't directly combated the ghosts, it seemed her expenditure of energy was no less than her own.
She was on another battlefield, aiding her—Song Yutang realized this deeply in this moment.
"Thanks to your help, senior."
