Mo Hua's expression remained indifferent, "The prosperity of your Shen Family, your luxurious lifestyle, are built upon their poverty."
Shen Qingsheng was stunned, then ridiculed:
"Then it's their own fault for being incompetent, whether poor or miserable, it's their fate, their deserved misfortune, what does it have to do with the Shen Family?"
As these words were spoken, the vengeful souls gathering in the Taoist Field began to scream and howl.
The massive Fierce Ghost also materialized.
Mo Hua's chest was pierced by the longsword.
Shen Qingsheng pushed Mo Hua forcefully into the Taoist Field, into the center where the vengeful ghosts rampaged and the yin aura was thick.
"Since you care about these impoverished ghosts who died in Solitary Mountain City, then let yourself feed them..."
Shen Qingsheng sneered.
Mo Hua's Divine Mist Formation shattered, his aura exposed, with the longsword pierced through his chest, unable to escape.
The small figure was surrounded and chased by thousands of fierce vengeful spirits, enclosing him bit by bit.
The gigantic and terrifying Fierce Ghost also drew near behind Mo Hua, opening its bloody maw.
The smile on Shen Qingsheng's face grew more smug.
But in an instant, his smile slowly disappeared, replaced by disbelief and terror.
In his eyes, the countless menacing vengeful spirits swirled and howled around Mo Hua, like an overwhelming tsunami about to devour everything.
But not a single one dared truly approach Mo Hua.
Even the massive Fierce Ghost, after opening its bloody maw at Mo Hua, apparently sensed something; its ugly eyes showed fear, retreating bit by bit.
The ghosts frantically danced, covering the sky and earth.
Yet that small figure stood unmovable, impervious to the myriad ghosts.
As if he were a small Yama, suppressing the Netherworld.
A chilling sensation spread from Shen Qingsheng's heart; his pupils slowly dilated as he struggled to turn and flee.
But a golden light flashed.
A golden sword broke through the air, piercing Shen Qingsheng's thigh, pinning him firmly to the ground.
Shen Qingsheng struggled, the more he struggled, the more it hurt, hurriedly turned his head.
Mo Hua, with a calm expression, drew the longsword Shen Qingsheng had used to ambush him from his chest, pinching it lightly with his fingers, then turning it into powder.
"Your Taoist Heart is already rotten..."
Shen Qingsheng's face was struck with terror.
Mo Hua extended his fair palm and grasped at the air.
A faint blue, blood-tinged aura of evil qi arose, forming a suffocating Water Prison Technique, binding Shen Qingsheng tightly, then dragging him bit by bit into the Taoist Field, into the ravenous maws of the thousands of vengeful souls.
"Settle your father's debts first..."
In Solitary Mountain City, the countless vengeful spirits who had died miserably held a breath, then shrieked and howled excitedly, the yin wind swirling in joy.