This ghost general, though extremely gaunt, had large bones and an imposing height. William Carter could barely reach the other’s chest. Over a dozen wounds covered its body, with flesh turned inside out—clearly, it had died a most miserable death. A feathered arrow pierced through its left eye into its skull, evidently the fatal blow that killed it. Its armor was tattered and ragged, yet the gold-inlaid collar, lion belt, suanni-patterned cuirass, and tiger-head boots all indicated the ghost general’s noble status in life.

Cursing inwardly, William Carter wondered where that Baigu Daoist had managed to find such formidable ghost soldiers and generals. Unarmed and unable to resist, William Carter could only turn and run. Though skilled in martial arts and lightness techniques, how could William Carter possibly outrun ghosts that moved like the wind, ethereal and elusive? After only a few steps, a gust of wind roared behind, followed by a chill swirling above William Carter’s head, as if searching for the perfect spot to strike down.

At this critical moment, William Carter suddenly heard a thunderous shout from above: “Little Daoist, catch!”

A dazzling flash shot forth, arriving at the last possible instant, intercepting the ghost general’s long blade with a ringing clang. Turning around, William Carter saw that it was John Foster, who, seeing William Carter in danger, had somehow produced a long weapon and thrown it over. The ghost general could not withstand the Richard Foster that John Foster had imbued into the weapon, and its form was instantly shattered, dissolving into a wisp of black mist. The residual force of the Richard Foster did not abate, driving the weapon half a foot deep into the ground.

Realizing the opportunity, William Carter quickly pulled the weapon from the ground. It felt quite heavy in hand, likely weighing dozens of pounds. Though blunt and unsharpened, it was a bamboo staff. The staff was eight feet long and as thick as a wrist, appearing unremarkable and pitch-black, but under the flickering ghostly light, it gleamed with a dark green oily sheen.

This brief delay allowed the gaunt ghost general to re-form. Before it could attack, William Carter struck first, sweeping the staff in a wide arc. Though unskilled in staff techniques, even this wild, unrefined swinging carried great momentum. The ghost general was struck twice in succession by William Carter’s bamboo staff, howling fiercely as its ghostly aura flared even more intensely.

As the wild ghosts howled all around, countless vengeful spirits suddenly pressed in on William Carter from every side. Faced with such a sinister onslaught, William Carter was at a loss for how to defend himself. Just as he steeled himself for a desperate fight, the bamboo staff in his hands burst forth with ten thousand rays of light. A golden pillar of light shot skyward, enveloping William Carter within.

Countless ghost soldiers and generals were blocked by this golden pillar, able only to howl and crash against it in vain.

Amazed by the power of this unremarkable bamboo staff, William Carter was caught off guard when a figure suddenly broke through the pillar and approached. As William Carter steadied himself and recognized John Foster, the old monk struck him on the back with a palm. A surge of powerful inner force sent William Carter flying through the air, straight toward George Washington, who was pursuing John Foster.

The awe-inspiring, millennia-old overlord spirit drew ever closer, its chilling, domineering aura pressing down on William Carter so hard he could barely breathe. Though William Carter had not expected John Foster to attack him, he still gripped the bamboo staff tightly. In desperation, William Carter raised the staff and, using a “Mount Tai Crushes the Top” technique, swung it viciously at George Washington’s head.

This awakened overlord spirit was unimaginably powerful. Before William Carter’s staff could even land, a wave of bone-chilling cold swept over him, as if he were caught in a blizzard—his very marrow and blood nearly frozen solid. The strike was neutralized by George Washington before it could be delivered.

As a massive hand reached for his head, William Carter sighed inwardly, thinking his life was over. Suddenly, a surge of peaceful, pure energy flooded in from behind. His bones and muscles seemed to swell instantly, as if filled with air. The true energy within him, previously suppressed by George Washington’s aura, erupted like a flood. The bamboo staff in his hands spun in a flourish, and, wielding it like a spear, he thrust it straight at the center of George Washington’s ghostly brow.

To William Carter’s surprise, the ancient overlord spirit showed no reaction to this sudden surge of power. As the staff pierced through its head, a sense of foreboding crept into William Carter’s heart.

With the staff driven through its head, George Washington’s ghostly form suddenly dissolved into several streams of black mist, which, as if sentient, coiled up the bamboo staff. William Carter hesitated for a moment, failing to throw the staff away in time. The black mist from George Washington’s dissipated spirit wound its way up the staff and onto William Carter himself.

The bamboo staff, so powerful just moments before, now showed no reaction at all. William Carter could only watch as several wisps of black smoke burrowed into his body.

“Om mani padme hum! Lightning and radiance, earth, water, fire, wind—seal!”

A pair of withered hands above his head sent waves of scorching true energy into him. William Carter felt as if his body had become a battlefield of asuras. The black mist that had just entered him, carrying crackling thunderous yin energy, clashed desperately with the James Foster's Power transmitted by John Foster. Two overwhelming, powerful forces battled within William Carter, making him feel alternately hot and cold, thunder and lightning raging inside. He wished King Yama would send his minions to claim his soul at once. The agony was so intense he nearly fainted, thinking that even the torments of the eighteenth level of hell could be no worse.

“Control your spirit, command the ghosts, absorb the primal soul—little Daoist! Quickly circulate your energy, focus your mind, steady your spirit…”