Chapter 70: Chapter 70
Lana’s mystic energy struck right at the ghost, searing into the black glowing core that anchored its presence to the physical world. Follow current novᴇls on novel※fire.net
The ghost shrieked, a sound so warped, so harrowing, that it seemed to claw at the very bones of the psychics standing there.
Its cry was unnatural, neither fully human nor entirely ghostly, but a chaotic blend of both.
A feverish chill ran down the spines of every psychic, goosebumps erupting across their arms and necks as the raw intensity of its suffering reverberated through the room.
One by one, their eyes met, a flicker of doubt and fear passing silently among them.
For a fleeting moment, some considered retreat, to flee from the horrifying presence that now quaked under the force of Lana’s attack.
But then, their gazes fell upon her... the woman, radiating an aura of absolute calm and steadiness.
Her eyes were focused, steady, and unshaken even as her mystic energy, pure and crystalline blue, struck the black core with unerring precision.
She was protecting others, shielding Grace and Robert, yet her movements were deliberate, elegant, and fearless.
A wave of awe washed over the psychics.
To stand like that, to wield such energy against a being of ten years’ cultivation without a tremor, required courage, skill, and a strength they had only dreamed of.
In that instant, they realized the truth of her quiet authority: if a woman like her did not back down, then neither should they.
They were men, psychics entrusted with responsibility.
There was no excuse to hide, no reason to falter behind someone who bore the brunt of the danger with such poise.
A silent agreement passed among them.
With renewed determination, all the psychics lifted their hands, palms glowing faintly with Aether energy, focusing their collective will on the black core.
The air around them shimmered as streams of silver energy coalesced, flowing in perfect synchrony toward the ghost’s vulnerable point.
The combined force struck like a tidal wave, and the ghost convulsed violently, its form twisting and writhing under the relentless assault.
Pain and helplessness clawed at it from all sides.
It could not escape; the combination of talismans and the psychics’ synchronized attack left it trapped.
In its mind, resentment flared...a bitter, searing anger toward its own employer.
Anthony, the one who had promised an easy task, had lied.
Two human lives to consume, power to gain, a simple job, he had said.
No complications. But now, every fiber of its grotesque, shifting body writhed in agony, and the reality of the underestimation crushed its pride.
Lana continued her assault for the next ten grueling minutes, until a sheen of sweat slid down her forehead, tracing her jawline before dripping onto the floor.
Every bead of sweat reflected the immense strain and agony she was enduring. Waves of exhaustion washed over her, yet she did not falter.
She knew this was a critical moment, one that demanded utter focus and the constant pouring of Mystic energy.
Gradually, the ghost’s furious movements slowed. It stopped shrieking and writhing, its grotesque form disintegrating into ashes that fell softly onto the floor.
Lana did not let her guard down. Instead, she directed her Mystic energy precisely at the ashes, ensuring every fragment dissipated into particles smaller than atoms.
Only then did she allow herself a quiet sigh of relief.
Her body sagged slightly as she collapsed onto the floor.
The calm she had displayed moments ago was merely a mask; underneath, she had been trembling, acutely aware of how perilously close the situation had been.
She had taken down a ghost with ten years of cultivation, an achievement that, while extraordinary, had required her full skill and precision.
Not to mention, the ten psychics assisting her had been relentlessly channeling their Aether energy through the gauntlets, amplifying the force of her attacks.
What should have been a battle lasting a full day and night had been compressed into just ten intense minutes.
Taking a deep breath, Lana glanced at Robert, who was sobbing as he held his wife close.
She closed her eyes to restore some of her drained energy, and in that quiet moment, she felt as though she had edged closer to a breakthrough.
Perhaps another confrontation or battle could finally push her into Stage 1 of Black Rank.
Robert, on the other hand, held his wife lovingly in his arms, murmuring thank you over and over again.
Just minutes ago, he had been consumed by despair, believing that no one would come to save him and that perhaps suicide was his only option.
But now, with his wife finally safe in his arms, the looming danger over them had passed.
He glanced at Lana, who had her eyes closed, calm and composed.
The slight sheen of sweat on her face caught the light, giving her skin a glassy, almost ethereal glow, enhancing her beauty. He couldn’t help but whisper softly, "Thank you."
Lana opened her eyes, met his gaze, and calmly replied, "It’s nothing."
Robert then turned his attention back to his wife. "I’ll thank you properly later," he murmured, "for now, I need to make sure she’s admitted to the hospital."
It was only then that Lana noticed a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of Grace’s mouth. It was clear that the entity had inflicted serious harm. She nodded silently, and Robert stood up with Grace in his arms.
However, midway through his steps, he faltered. He turned toward Lana, his expression pleading, almost desperate.
"Could you... follow me? Please?" he asked. His mind was still haunted by the thought that the evildoer Anthony might have backups waiting.
Lana understood his fear and nodded. At that, Robert let out a sigh of relief.
He didn’t know her name, nor why she had helped him; he assumed she had been sent by Nixon.
Yet, despite the uncertainty, an overwhelming sense of gratitude welled up within him for this extraordinary girl.
Soon, they arrived at the hospital. With the help of a healer and a regeneration superhuman, they managed to reattach Grace’s fallen teeth.