The Mountain-Uprooting Master surveyed the room filled with dismembered limbs and, with a cold laugh, said, "You always acted like a benevolent woman, but behind the scenes, you’re so sinister and venomously ruthless. A hypocritical wretch like you deserves a thousand cuts."
She was cursing Meng Yuchun, but Hong Ying misunderstood.
Following the voice, Hong Ying swung her gun around and asked, "You old thing, who are you cursing?"
The Mountain-Uprooting Master waved her cane, "So you’re the House Spirit?"
"Yes!" Hong Ying declared with evident pride, flicking the tip of her gun.
Now the tip of the gun was covered in blood. Paired with its metallic base, it possessed a peculiar beauty.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master raised her cane to strike, but suddenly the Phonograph shouted, "Hey, you wretch, what kind of House Spirit are you to call the shots in this house?"
The Mountain-Uprooting Master looked towards the Phonograph. At first, seeing the steam and smoke billowing from it, she mistook it for some kind of boiler, not realizing it had records that spun continuously and a horn that could produce sound.
Meng Yuchun actually had two House Spirits.
She had heard of such cases before; some high-level Home Cultivators indeed had more than one House Spirit.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master turned to Li Banfeng, "Are you also a House Spirit?"
"I..." Li Banfeng didn’t know how to explain himself.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master laughed and said, "Forget it, I’ll send you all off together!"
BANG!
The cane smashed into the ground, unleashing an invisible force that made the corpses and various Magical Treasures in the room rise into the air.
The Tang Sword cried out in alarm as it darted into Li Banfeng’s pocket along with the Gloves.
The Music Box was a bit clumsier, trying to find Li Banfeng but unable to fly across.
The Judge’s Pen floated mid-air, indifferent, flipping over to continue its slumber.
The Month Plate curled itself up and hung onto the Clock Pendulum, both flying towards Li Banfeng.
Flying towards Li Banfeng didn’t necessarily mean safety; Li Banfeng himself was lifted into the air.
In the main hall of the Portable Residence, tables, chairs, bowls, water buckets, and even Li Banfeng’s bed were all levitated.
"A Strength Cultivator?" The Phonograph, unaffected and calmly emitting steam, remarked, "This kind of Taoist Sect technique is quite rare nowadays."
"What’s so rare about it? Weren’t there plenty on the battlefield in the old days?" Hong Ying, who wasn’t lifted, had her long hair floating slightly.
PFFT.
The Phonograph laughed, "Silly old woman, times have changed. Strength Cultivators are almost driven to extinction by Martial Cultivators."
Hong Ying snorted, "Brute force can overwhelm ingenuity; speed can shatter all deceptions. What’s a Martial Cultivator worth!"
The two continued to argue over cultivation levels. The Mountain-Uprooting Master realized the situation was dire.
These two House Spirits weren’t lifted, proving their strength was no less than Meng Yuchun’s. Killing them in a short span of time would be incredibly difficult.
Seeing that the male House Spirit seemed incapable, she decided to use him as a hostage to find a way to escape.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master changed her force, attempting to slam Li Banfeng back to the ground.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
A rapid drumbeat sounded. The Mountain-Uprooting Master felt her breath catch, and her Technique became impossible to execute.
To the rhythm of the drums, Li Banfeng, along with all the furniture and Magical Treasures, slowly descended back to their original places. The wife had unraveled the Mountain-Uprooting Master’s Technique.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master swung her cane at the Phonograph.
BANG!
The front cabinet of the Phonograph made a muffled sound.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master struck the front door of the Phonograph but without the strength she had intended. Her breath hitched with the drumbeat, the power within her body conflicting with itself.
The Phonograph’s tone turned chillingly cold, "You old hag who knows nothing of death, who allowed you to touch my husband?"
The old woman shuddered, mustering all her strength, trying to break free from the Phonograph’s control.
The beat of the drums grew denser, mixed with the wife’s chilling chant, "I shall go to Nostalgia Terrace to see for myself. There, I see only minor fiends and great Judges, escorting the unjustly dead Lost Souls, necks in iron chains. So tragic, so mournful, the yin wind swirls, chilling me to the bone."
"Dark Yin Mountain," originally a Painted Face’s aria. The wife changed the tune and rhythm, turning it into a Songstress’s lament, a mournful and eerie melody that struck terror in the Mountain-Uprooting Master’s heart, making her sweat profusely.
The Mountain-Uprooting Master turned toward the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
She saw another door behind Li Banfeng. The Mountain-Uprooting Master transformed into Ghost Fire and dashed towards it.
This only infuriated the wife even more, thinking that the old woman was after Li Banfeng.
A blast of Steam forced the old woman to revert to her true form. The needle pierced her eyeball, hooking into her eye socket, and dragging the old woman back.
"You really have a death wish, daring to make a move on my husband!" The scalding Steam heated the needle to a glowing red, smoking the old woman’s eye socket.
The old woman tried to use brute strength to snap the Phonograph’s needle, but the sinister chant never ceased, and she couldn’t muster her strength.
Li Banfeng was puzzled.
Lost in thought, he suddenly felt a warm, wet sensation at his ear.
Li Banfeng, removing his Earrings, angrily said, "Didn’t I tell you not to pee in my ear?"
Hong Ying warned the Earrings, "You should only listen to what you’re allowed to. Don’t dare to listen to anything else. This wretched woman fears harming her man, so she lets you hear what’s pleasant. If you heard her true voice, it would scare your souls away."
The Mountain-Uprooting Master flexed her wrist. She wore a Gold Bracelet, a rare Spiritual Object that might yet save her life.
She worked her wrist for a long moment, but the bracelet gave no response.
The needle heated up again, and the chant intertwined heavily, as if thousands of actors sang together in a grand performance.
Hooked on the needle, the Mountain-Uprooting Master gradually stopped struggling, the Phonograph’s words plunging her into a daze.
Another needle drove into the top of her head. The Mountain-Uprooting Master convulsed, her eyes rolling back as though her brain was being sucked dry.