Sanyuan felt that he was about to meet his demise right here. The ghostly hand that was clutching his throat tightened more and more, the air in his chest and lungs dwindling, his face turning purplish, his eyes rolling upwards showing whites.
In the eyes of everyone accompanying Princess Rong'an, he was merely clasping his own neck, his body hovering in mid-air.
Yet this sight was even more chilling.
Princess Rong'an, pale with fright, wished she could faint on the spot, yet there her foolish daughter stood, eyes filled with infatuation, foolishly calling out Zhou Lang's name.
The old Taoist, his face twisted in pain, struggled to his feet, took out his Compass, his eyes showing reluctance, yet he resolutely hurled it at the Evil Ghost: "Divine weapon of the world, essence of the Eight Diagrams, may golden light emerge swiftly, shield and protect the altar, exterminate the evil!"
