The wandering soul lunged, its translucent body slipping through Wang Xian like a blade of ice dragged across bare flesh.
He clenched his teeth.
Cold.So cold it felt like it touched something deeper than skin. Bone. Soul.
Two numbers blinked into existence:
−200−35
[God Abandonment] had triggered again, retaliating even as the ghost's touch drained his life essence.
With a breath like smoke, Wang Xian raised a hand and conjured a glowing orb of flame. The fire pulsed with a sickly warmth that didn't reach the skin.
[Fireball]−236−2(Burn)
The wandering soul shrieked—a hollow, shrill wail that scraped across the night like broken glass on slate. Its ethereal form twisted as the fire tore into it, the flames leaving scorched trails across its transparent limbs.
But it didn't stop.
It came again.
And again.
Slipping through Wang Xian's body like a curse he couldn't shake.
−10−10
Its hits weren't strong, but they were steady. Each pass-through left a residue of death—a chill, a memory of something old and forgotten. The kind of cold that reminded you that one day, you'd rot too.
He cast again—this time twin spells, one from each hand. Wind Blade. Ice Spike.
−108−91
The wandering soul staggered, its form flickering.
But still it moved.
It didn't bleed.
It didn't scream.
It just watched with empty eyes and waited for the moment to pierce through him once more.
The darkness was thick, suffocating. The only source of light was the ball of illumination above Wang Xian's head, casting long, flickering shadows across the empty cropland.
Behind him, no one spoke. No one moved. He was alone in that circle of dim light.
Just him and the dead thing clawing at his life.
Cool-downs ticked by like distant drums.
He watched the ghost twitch, gathering for another charge.
−10
His health dipped, slow but steady. His soul felt scraped raw by the creature's touch.
Then—Fireball.
−234
Almost there.
It floated toward him again—slow this time. Mocking. It had patience. The dead always had patience.
His fingers clenched.
Wind Blade.
−108
The ghost dissolved into ash and silence.
Ding!Wandering Soul slain. Experience gained...
Wang Xian exhaled slowly.
The darkness returned.
He turned.
Eight pairs of eyes stared at him, unmoving.
Silent.
"You just gonna stand there like cow statues while I solo the afterlife?" he asked flatly.
They blinked.
Dad cleared his throat. "Son, you said I couldn't hit them..."
"I wasn't talking to you, Dad." His voice was tired. He gestured toward the spellcasters. "I meant them."
"Uncle, you were so cool just now," Cheng Yao chimed in, unbothered. "Left hand fire, right hand ice? You looked like a boss fight."
Wang Xian glared. "I'm not a sideshow."
Su Jin snorted. "Could've fooled me. Smile next time you blast a ghost—you looked like you were enjoying it."
He coughed. "I wasn't."
"You totally were."
He stared at them, eyes narrowed. "Whatever. No more audience participation. You're all helping this time."
The three mages saluted. "Got it, Uncle."
Su Jin nodded, the torchlight flickering in her eyes. "Me too."
Wang Xian turned to Cheng Yao.
"You?"
"I'm a healer," she said innocently. "Don't I just… cast heals?"
"You didn't pick up any attack skills?"
"The priest mentor wouldn't teach me!"
"You could've bought skill books."
Her eyes widened. "Wait, those exist?!"
Wang Xian took a deep breath, slowly, like he was trying to keep from casting Lightning Bolt on her just for stress relief.