My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Some of the "servants" had broken arms but were still wielding their knives; some had broken legs but were still crawling forward; and one was even cleaved in two, with each half fighting its own battle!

They're all paper figures!

Zhao Damang felt a chill run down his spine, but his hands didn't stop moving: "The door's about to open! Get ready to rush in!"

The paper door had been burned through, leaving a hole large enough for a person to pass through. The edges of the paper were still burning, and the bamboo frame was charred and twisted, forming a doorway of flames.

"Charge with me!" Zhao Damang roared, and was the first to rush through the fire gate!

The heat wave hit my face, and sparks flew onto my clothes, burning small holes in them.

But he was completely unaware. After landing, he rolled over and rushed towards the two paper figures that were besieging Lin Zhenyuan!

Behind them, the bodyguards filed in.

Eight strong men and eight blazing torches entered the courtyard, like eight suns crashing into an ice cave!

The chill was dispelled by the heat wave, and the firelight illuminated every corner.

The paper figures seemed to be struck by this sudden surge of yang energy, and their movements all froze.

"Big Brother!" Zhao Damang rushed to Lin Zhenyuan's side, waved his torch, and forced back a paper figure.

Lin Zhenyuan was both surprised and delighted to see Zhao Damang: "Damang! You guys..."

"We'll talk about it later!" Zhao Damang roared, his gaze sweeping over the paper figures filling the courtyard.

"Brothers! The Taoist priest said—ghosts fear fire! Paper fears fire even more! Put fire on the knife! Burn these ghostly things!"

The bodyguards understood instantly.

The first few bodyguards didn't hesitate to slash their steel blades over the torches!

The blade, soaked in pine resin, ignited upon contact with fire, sending flames about a foot long shooting up with a "whoosh"!

Flaming Blade!

"Kill—!!" Zhao Damang was the first to rush forward, his burning steel blade slashing fiercely at a paper servant!

This time, it was no longer the crisp sound of metal clashing.

Instead, with a "whoosh—!", flames burst forth!

The paper figure was struck on the shoulder by the flaming blade, and the thick paper with clothes drawn on it instantly burst into flames!

The flames spread along the paper and engulfed the entire upper body in the blink of an eye.

The bamboo frame crackled and popped in the fire, and the paper figure emitted a silent scream—if its twisted and struggling posture could be considered a scream.

In just three breaths, an invulnerable paper figure was reduced to charred ashes.

"It worked!" The guards' morale soared.

"Apply fire! Apply fire to everything!"

"Burn them!"

Torches were used as fuel, and steel knives, longswords, and even iron rods were transformed into firearms in the flames.

Eight bodyguards and eight burning weapons formed a moving wall of fire in the courtyard.

The battle situation reversed instantly.

The paper figure is not afraid of being cut by a knife or stabbed by a sword, but in the face of flames, it is as fragile as real paper.

A bodyguard brandished a fire knife and cut a paper figure in half at the waist.

The paper burned at the break, and the two pieces of the body rolled on the ground, quickly turning into two piles of fire.

Another bodyguard pierced the paper figure's chest with a burning longsword, and flames burst from the inside, burning the paper figure through like a lantern.

The most tragic sight was the paper figure that was split in two but still fighting—both halves of its body were simultaneously set ablaze, twisting and curling in the flames, before finally merging into a pile of charred remains.

Zhao Damang rescued Lin Zhenyuan, and the two stood back to back in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a circle of about ten people.

Torches were raised high, and blades were ablaze, temporarily forcing back the eerie paper figures.

Inside the main hall, Lin Yunfeng's scream pierced Lin Zhenyuan's heart like a knife.

"Feng'er is still inside!" Lin Zhenyuan's left shoulder wound was still bleeding, but he stared intently at the main hall. "Da Mang, we have to rush in!"

Zhao Damang was also anxious, but he was calmer than Lin Zhenyuan.

"Brother, we can't just charge in! These monsters are impervious to swords and spears; only fire can harm them! We have to charge in together; the torches can't be extinguished, and our yang energy can't be weakened!"

He turned to the guards and roared, "Brothers! Raise the torches high! Smother your blades with fire! Stay together, don't scatter! Let's charge into the main hall together!"

"yes!"

The bodyguards responded in unison, their voices echoing through the courtyard. They were all men who had tasted blood on the front lines; after the initial fear, only ruthlessness remained in their eyes.

Including Zhao Damang and Lin Zhenyuan's torches, a total of ten torches gathered together, the flames forming a wall of fire, the heat rising and forcing the surrounding cold aura back three zhang.

The blade sliced ​​across the torch, and the steel knife, soaked in pine oil, reignited in flames.

Ten fire blades and ten torches formed a moving fireball, slowly advancing towards the main hall.

The paper servants seemed to fear the blazing sun and slowly retreated.

But they retreated in a very orderly manner; they did not scatter, but rather converged towards the main hall entrance like a tide.

An ominous premonition rose in Zhao Damang's heart.

Sure enough, just as they advanced to within five zhang of the main hall entrance, a sudden change occurred.

The two carved wooden doors in the main hall creaked open by themselves.

More paper figures poured out from inside the door.

They weren't dressed as servants, but rather as maids, servants, guards... men, women, young and old.

They were all dressed in colorful paper clothes, their faces were covered in pale powder, and their cheeks were bright red to the point of being glaring.

They filed out and lined up in three rows on the steps in front of the main hall, probably numbering no less than thirty.

Even more bizarrely, these paper figures were all holding a... paper fan.

It wasn't a real fan, but rather made of paper, with simple landscapes, flowers, and birds painted on its surface.

They all raised their paper fans in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, like puppets controlled by the same person.

"What are they going to do?" a young bodyguard asked, his voice trembling.

No one answered.

Because the next moment, more than thirty paper fans started waving at the same time!

It wasn't ordinary fanning; it was directed towards Zhao Damang and the others, rhythmically and deliberately, one wave after another—

"call--!"

A sudden, eerie wind arose!

That wasn't a natural wind, but a chilling wind that seemed to blow from the deepest hell!

The wind carried the rustling sound of paper rubbing together, along with faint sobs, groans, and bitter laughter...

A cold wind crashed into the wall of fire.

"puff!"

The torches at the very front flickered violently, and then... went out!

It didn't gradually shrink; rather, it was as if an invisible hand had choked it, extinguishing it instantly! Not even a spark remained!

"What's going on?!" Zhao Damang's pupils shrank suddenly.

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

Several more torches went out.

The cold wind grew stronger, stirring up the ashes from the paper on the ground and forming small black vortexes.

Wherever the vortex passed, the flames, like an oil lamp encountering water, quickly dimmed, shrank, and eventually went out.

The bodyguards panicked.

"Light it! Light it now!" someone shouted frantically, rubbing the tinderbox.

But the fire startled and a tiny spark was extinguished by a cold wind.

Wipe it again, then extinguish it.

After seven or eight attempts, not only was the torch not lit, but the tinderbox itself was almost worn out.

Even the flames on the blade couldn't hold up.

The cold wind, like countless icy hands, brushed across the burning blade.

The flame hissed and shrank rapidly, eventually turning into a wisp of smoke and dissipating in the wind.

In just ten breaths, all ten torches were extinguished.

Ten fire blades extinguished the flames.

The courtyard fell into darkness again, with only the candlelight shining from the main hall casting long, distorted shadows of the paper figures onto the bluestone slabs.

"The fire...it won't light..." a bodyguard's voice cried out in despair.