Yan Huai's eyes were scarlet, flashing with fear and doubt.
"You're finally out," Qi Ying muttered to herself.
Yan Huai, who was surrounded by an evil spirit, reached out and grabbed Qi Ying's neck.
Perhaps because he had been lying down for too long, his body did not have much strength, so Qi Ying easily broke free.
"You're just so-so. You must be very depressed to meet a host who doesn't want to fuse with you, right?"
The evil spirit did not pounce on him again. Instead, it crashed into the window.
The windowsill of the Yan family's house was made of hard granite. If one bumped into it, one's head would break.
Qi Ying reached for the knife on the bed and cut her arm.
Red blood splattered, and a few drops splashed into the evil spirit's eyes.
The evil spirit covered its eyes.
Qi Ying chanted again and lit the pile of herbs.
The rich fragrance of herbs filled the room.
