Chapter 757: Tai

“They’re here!”

Sha Li-fei muttered a warning and gripped the rifle’s stock.

Gazing at the thick fog around him, he whispered, “What kind of trick is this?”

Though he had already established his Foundation, his focus remained largely on firearms techniques; he understood little of other sects’ magical arts and could only ask others.

Kuai Dayou also lowered his voice: “Looks like summoning troops—but this is Tai’an City, guarded by the City God’s spirit soldiers. To openly summon troops here? That’s odd…”

“Not troops!”

Lu San’s ears twitched slightly as he growled, “I hear paper scraping the ground—it’s paper dolls. Watch out!”

With that, he lightly tapped the white fox beside him, Chu Qi.

Shhh!

A white shadow flashed—and the white fox vanished.

The once-juvenile fox had now grown into Lu San’s capable ally: swift, skilled at stealth, adept at mind-distorting arts, and with keen spiritual senses unaffected by the fog.

The white fox was sent primarily to establish contact with the other team.

After all, in this fog, hawk-borne messages would be disrupted.

As they spoke, the fog thickened further; distant lanterns warped into grotesque orange-yellow smudges, and all surrounding sounds seemed swallowed and sealed by the mist, leaving only an eerie, suffocating silence.

Then the air grew cold and damp.

All three smelled a scent—mixed with earthy rot, incense ash, and decaying paper.

At the same time, a strange sound emerged from deep within the fog.

It was the rapid, rustling “pupu” of paper flapping in the wind—fine, dense, relentless.

Accompanied by the rhythmic, stiff “tap, tap, tap.”

As if countless sheets of stiff cardboard were pounding the blue stone ground.

“Go now!”

The three exchanged glances and, without hesitation, sprinted toward Bai Laojiu’s direction.

Meanwhile, Bai Laojiu’s body hairs stood on end.

His vision was blocked—he saw nothing—but felt the chilling killing intent. His waist saber flashed out with a metallic ring, its cold gleam cutting through the mist as he roared, “What demon dares play tricks here!”

But there was no reply from the other side.

In the thick fog, a line of grotesque figures emerged, faint and indistinct.

They were paper cutouts—pale as death, thin as cicada wings—shaped into human forms.

Expressionless faces, smeared with crude, crooked streaks of rouge, moved in perfect unison yet with unnatural stiffness.

These paper dolls stood in two lines, carrying a massive, pitch-black coffin!

The coffin was ordinary cypress wood—not rare—but under this scene, it radiated profound dread.

The paper dolls tapped the ground with their toes; though appearing slow, they moved with startling speed, drawing nearer.

“Fuck your mother!”

Bai Laojiu’s eyelid twitched; he cursed and spun to run.

Though skilled, he was still mortal—utterly powerless against this thing.

But as he turned, he saw figures appear behind him.

Bai Laojiu’s scalp prickled—he raised his blade—but before he could swing, his wrist was pinned down. A cold voice sounded beside his ear: “Don’t panic. It’s us. Fall back behind us.”

“You’ve finally arrived…”

Bai Laojiu exhaled in relief, wiping cold sweat as he scrambled behind the three.

“Paper dolls carrying a coffin… again?!”

Sha Li-fei said coldly, “I’ve seen this before in Luoyang. Li Yan said paper dolls can’t lift anything—so is there some giant worm inside the coffin?”

“Oh~”

Kuai Dayou chuckled, “You fellows really are well-traveled. Li Yan was right—paper dolls can’t carry a real coffin. But this isn’t a real coffin at all—just a masterful paper-mache replica.”

Sha Li-fei squinted. “Huh. You’re right.”

The two joked casually, showing no tension.

But their attitude seemed to anger something in the fog.

“Siiii~”

From far down the street came an ear-splitting shriek.

It tore through the silent night, piercing the soul with vicious malice.

Like a signal, the paper doll coffin procession abruptly froze.

The coffin lid creaked open a sliver—thick, nearly solid black vapor surged out, reeking of rot. Merely smelling it made one dizzy and nauseous.

“It’s a hallucinogenic smoke.”

“Watch out—you don’t want to inhale it!”

“Found it—Southeast, Gen position!” Lu San’s ears twitched, suddenly speaking.

Sha Li-fei, already ready, fired without hesitation.

Boom!

A deafening blast sent stones flying in all directions.

“Ughh—!”

The sharp, brief scream cut off abruptly.

From the shattered wall and flying debris, a figure collapsed backward, his chest exploding into a spray of blood.

A middle-aged man with a sinister face and rat-like whiskers—half his chest gone, dead on impact.

Without control, the paper doll procession halted mid-charge.

Like puppets with severed strings, their movements grew even more rigid, twisted.

The rouge on their faces looked more grotesque in the dim light, yet their hollow eye sockets still stared fixedly at the group.

“Hmph!”

Lu San, standing still as a deep abyss, let out a cold snort. He stomped hard—no pattern, yet carrying an ancient, mysterious rhythm: the Chu Witch’s Nuo Step. Each step shook the ground slightly.

He muttered incantations in obscure syllables, while swinging his bone-bead tiger-tail staff.

“Souls and spirits—return to the Void! By command!”

Hoo~

With the rattle of the bone beads, a chilling, murderous wind erupted from nowhere.

The thick fog and hallucinogenic smoke were instantly torn apart and scattered by the gale.

With the fog gone, everything was laid bare.

The paper dolls, struck by immense force, toppled sideways and clattered to the ground in heaps.

The sinister ghostly energy clinging to them vanished completely in the wind.

Lu San’s lineage was ancient Chu Witchcraft—naturally adept at exorcising spirits. Dealing with paper dolls was child’s play.

Far away, in a dark alley, a figure fled swiftly.

It was the other controller of the paper dolls: an old woman, dressed in a dark green floral jacket, her hair white, body hunched, face yellow and withered. Her once-cloudy eyes now bulged wide with sheer terror.

Lu San’s group had terrified her.

Her most trusted techniques—the “Shadow Mist Array” and “Paper Spirit Coffin Carry”—had been effortlessly shattered, and even her longtime partner was dead.

She’d stepped on iron!

Overwhelming survival instinct drove her to scream. She abandoned control of the remaining paper dolls, her withered body moving with impossible agility for her age—she flipped like a kite, aiming to leap onto the nearby low wall and escape!

But as her body left the ground, a cold voice sounded beside her ear:

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It was Long Yan, who had circled around.