Chapter Twenty: The Return

Shen Chang'an's words struck straight to the heart. After hearing him, Lady Li's dark aura dissipated, her eyes rounded in fury, and Wang Yi's once-handsome face twisted with wicked thoughts and resentment as he stared rigidly at Shen Chang'an, as if he would devour him whole.

Bang!

At that moment, a thunderous sound erupted. One of Lady Li's arms suddenly broke free, and the talisman that had suppressed her was now faded and powerless, unable to restrain the evil spirit any longer.

"Priest, you talk too much nonsense, hahaha..."

Shen Chang'an merely shook his head slightly and replied softly, "A priest can never speak nonsense."

As his words fell, dozens of talismans flickered beneath his feet, linking together and, in an instant, tracing a sword-like phantom through the air.

"You deliberately told your own story to stall for time, but you didn't realize that I, too, was delaying. One talisman of the Eastern Emperor can suppress you, but not destroy you, and even if I used every ghost-slaying talisman I possess, it might not be enough to kill you."

"That talisman was meant only to buy time, and speaking with you was to lull you into complacency. After all, if you knew I was setting up an array to kill you, you might have fought back recklessly, perhaps escaping even faster."

Shen Chang'an spoke indifferently, his eyes shining with an awe-inspiring, clear light. In that moment, he seemed to lose his own consciousness, transformed into a being lofty and majestic, suspended high above the heavens—a god.

A chilling, murderous aura began to emanate from him. At that moment, Shen Chang'an gripped the ethereal sword shadow. He remained himself, yet from every angle, one felt only the overwhelming presence of deadly menace.

Fierce, most fierce, a killing aura!

Now, Shen Chang'an was devoid of any trace of a priest's gentle presence, instead resembling a ruthless warrior who had emerged from heaps of corpses and rivers of blood.

The little fox's petite body trembled uncontrollably before darting away, hiding behind a brick wall, not daring to peek at Shen Chang'an.

All around, the villagers of Wang's Manor who had been fighting now knelt and crawled on the ground, trembling ceaselessly, their teeth chattering, none daring to lift their heads.

Shen Chang'an approached slowly, the sword shadow quivering in his hand. As it lightly swept across the ground, it left a sword mark nearly three meters long.

His expression was devoid of sorrow or joy, slaughtering without awareness, as if