Chapter 322: Coastal Defense Battle

"Damn it, why didn't I notice how long this damn ritual usually takes in past years!"

Bai Yi slammed a giant three times her height to the ground, her knuckles driving through the magical shell and crushing the host's skull within.

At this moment, she wanted to light every coastal patrol officer on fire—so many Yamato cultivators had slipped in, and not a single whisper had reached her.

But this was only a momentary outburst; as the saying goes, a thief can steal for a thousand days, but a guardian cannot guard for a thousand days—who knows when these Yamato people slipped into the Harbor Capital? Maybe years ago, disguised as merchants from other nations; maybe through diplomatic channels with official identities; or even more extreme, perhaps they'd lain dead in the sea all along, only now reactivating.

Especially this habit of instantly possessing bodies with malevolent spirits—purely the posture of a living stake sacrifice—it reeked of living corpse demon soldiers.

Bai Yi flicked the filth from her hands, ready to find a stronger target, when a gust of wind struck—yet the host whose skull she'd crushed rose again, pulling from nowhere an eight-faceted great club and swinging it at her head.

Bai Yi sneered, unmoved, raising one hand to block the seemingly thousand-tael club; with a breath of demonic energy, the club crumbled to dust instantly.

Yet while this ancient demoness, who had cultivated for untold ages, handled it with ease, other cultivators might not be so lucky.

The Yamato people possessed by demons had strong resistance to magical energy; if a proper Daoist Priest were present, a single palm thunder would curb this tide—but now, all the orthodox sect Daoist Priests were at the ritual assembly, and those here couldn't even avoid being suppressed by thunder arts, let alone use them.

Even if one could summon a bolt of lightning via the Thunder-Calling Spell, it lacked the true exorcistic properties of genuine thunder arts—better to strengthen the body with magical energy and charge straight in.

"I told you keeping corpses was bullshit!" The Paper-Cutter controlled over a dozen paper dolls dashing about to put out fires, muttering nonstop—strictly for safety and to prevent criminals from smuggling contraband under the guise of corpse-driving, the Harbor Capital banned zombies; now, faced with this scene, if even one Bronze-Plate Corpse were here, he'd be fiercer than Bai Yi!

"Stop whining—save your strength to control the paper dolls; these Yamato people's demonic entities all have soul-devouring traits—relying solely on yin spirits is asking for trouble!"

The Witch interrupted the Paper-Cutter's muttering, but he ignored her—he could flee even if a flood hit, and if he complained enough, maybe the new leadership would consider it during reconstruction?

Though each had their own thoughts, these heterodox, outsider, foreign, and foreign-religion factions showed zero slacking—Heaven sees, the dead know—if you slack now, you shouldn't have come at all.

The giant waves kept rolling in like coiling water dragons; the barrier maintained by the Harbor Capital's choir had cracked like shattered tempered glass, as if one more strike would shatter it completely.

"Fuck it, let the backlash come!"

Suddenly, the Witch, who'd been standing behind the makeshift altar and constantly buffing his allies, cursed aloud—his position was too conspicuous, making him a prime target; though fellow cultivators protected him, prolonged strain inevitably flared his temper.

He tore off his outer robe, revealing a delicate red bellyband, snatched a meticulously consecrated cloth doll from the altar, tapped his toe, lips moving, whispering faintly until the murmurs coalesced into a chant linking heaven and earth—

"With sincere heart, I offer three incense sticks, transforming into countless clouds of mist; I humbly summon Lord Nezha, the Third Prince, who at seven years old gained divine power. Nezha's command, Nezha's command, Nezha's Third Prince with a million troops. A million soldiers form ranks, galloping to the altar's front. Your disciple prays with single-minded devotion—Lord Nezha, come to the altar! Divine soldiers, haste, by the law's decree!"

As the incantation ended, the Witch flung his hand—revealing a telescoping spear; such hollow, showy telescoping spears would snap instantly in battle, but now, infused with a sliver of Nezha's divine will, it became a true divine weapon: one thrust split the approaching Yamato ghost soldiers in two, blood spraying everywhere yet not a drop touched him; the spear tip trembled, blossoming into flower-like strikes, and the red tassel ignited into roaring flame.

Magical energy coalesced beneath his feet into wind-and-fire wheels, turning him into a streak of red light, instantly slaying several foes.

The Fire-Tipped Spear pulsed with divine power—those struck by this blow were not only killed, but their inner demons were incinerated as well.

Though he'd summoned a great deity, the Witch knew the situation well—he avoided prolonged fights with these ninja soldiers, charging straight toward the Long Wang Temple.

Summoning Lord Nezha wasn't inherently wrong—but summoning Lord Nezha inside the Long Wang Temple, with the goal of destroying it? That was a massive problem!

But now there was no time to care—if this continued, when the Long Wang truly coalesced, the Harbor Capital might become Chen Tang Pass for real!

Indeed, Lord Nezha was devastating against dragon-kind; the Yamato barrier built from mortal devotion shattered with a single strike. The Yamato deity standing before the altar inside the Long Wang Temple, seeing him burst in, turned pale—slamming his table, he let out a dragon's roar.

The sound affected friend and foe alike, throwing even the summoned spirit soldiers outside into panic—but the Witch, possessed by Nezha, remained unfazed; magical energy formed red silk, sealing the deity's surroundings, the spear's flame burning fiercer, the whole figure like a meteor, smashing the deity and the Long Wang statue behind him into fragments.

"Puff!"

The Harbor Capital's Long Wang statue had received years of incense offerings; though the blow shattered its shell, the backlash of devotion did not vanish—the immense Long Wang faith roared in fury, slamming into the Witch's body, entangling with Nezha's divine energy.

The Witch bit his tongue hard, using the agony to surge his magic; Nezha's divine power tore free from his body and collided fully with the Long Wang's devotion, while he scrambled out of the temple, still reeling from the backlash.

Fortunately, fellow Daoists had watched his movements; seeing him fall, they rushed forward to drag him away from danger—before they'd gone far, the Long Wang Temple collapsed behind them with a thunderous crash.

"Phew, it's over!" The Witch wiped blood from his lips; though his root was wounded, this heroic intervention might make future spirit-summonings easier—who knew if it was a loss or a gain?

The Daoist supporting him opened his mouth to praise him, but his face turned ghastly—the Long Wang's faith, after colliding with Nezha's divine energy, had not dissipated; instead, it flowed toward the corpse of a Yamato man killed at the very start.

Crack!

The choir's shield finally shattered; the giant waves surged—but did not crash down. Instead, they coalesced into serpentine, dragon-like forms, writhing and coiling, merging with the Long Wang's faith, all pouring into that single corpse…

(End of Chapter)