As a child, Su Nanzhi loved spending time in the study and incidentally learned some monk's talismans, eventually understanding why Sun Wukong always seemed to be half-dead.
The thing was indeed torturing.
And now, even ghosts couldn't stand it.
The female ghost kneeling on the ground gradually lost her original graceful appearance; her skin turned crimson, like being scorched by fire.
Her eyes also became bloodshot, and she grew sharp fangs. Holding her head with both hands, she let out pained and pitiful cries.
Su Nanzhi showed not a hint of sympathy. The Peach Wood Sword in her hand had returned to its normal size. She raised her hand, ready to strike down when, unexpectedly, the female ghost lunged straight at her, her nails clawing towards Su Nanzhi's face.
