Looking beneath the river, water ghosts attacked from all sides.
Old Mo and I could only fight a battle of desperation in the water.
The ghoul and more than a dozen water corpse spirits lunged forward,
With guttural roars.
At this moment, I steadied Old Mo’s form with one hand, raising the peach wood sword.
Swinging it at the surrounding specters.
Old Mo held his breath, and with me protecting him, he could use both hands to fend off the attacking water ghosts.
But these water ghosts were formidable.
With muffled cries, they surrounded us in the water,
Coiling around us, forming a ball of water ghosts.
We could neither ascend nor descend.
Trapped in the water, holding our breath, constantly under attack from these water ghosts.
Each of our strikes struggled to harm these water ghosts.
Yet we couldn't afford to relax our guard, as these water ghosts could attack us from any direction.
The ghoul was also waiting for an opportunity.
Should we show any weakness, we could lose our lives.
But this was secondary.
The crucial point was that we were trapped in the water.
Unable to breathe, how long could we last? One minute? Five minutes? Or ten?
Under such intense combat and exhaustion of spiritual energy,
We could hold our breath for at most three minutes.
Once three minutes passed, even if we weren't killed by the specters, we would drown, becoming food for these ghouls.
My only means of self-rescue, the Dragon Phoenix Jade Pendant, to summon Qing Dai, was useless in this water.
Damn it, what should we do now?
I desperately racked my brain for a solution.
Though every step of the journey had been fraught with danger, and every victory snatched from the jaws of death,
There was one commonality: we were on land.
There, we could rely on our strong will to constantly stimulate potential and fight.
But this time, it was different.
In the water, our strength was of no use.
Many of our Taoist techniques were rendered ineffective.
This frustrating situation filled me with a suffocating sense of powerlessness.
But as things stood, we had no choice but to face it.
What to do? What to do?
I thought incessantly, fighting alongside Old Mo against the water corpse spirits.
One encounter, ten, twenty, fifty...
In just three minutes, we had struck hundreds of times, yet only slain three water corpse spirits.
We remained trapped.
Old Mo and I, breathless and with pounding hearts, were close to suffocation.
Every movement was arduous.
Our heartbeats raced to their limit,
As if about to leap from our throats.
The ghoul, noticing our predicament,
Stood upright in the water, sticking out its tongue to lick its teeth:
"It's time. Let me let you feel the taste of drowning."
As it uttered the word "taste," the surrounding water corpse spirits suddenly opened their mouths.
From each of their mouths, a long, red tongue shot out.
Seeing this, Old Mo and I raised our weapons to parry.
But their numbers were too great, their speed too swift.
Coupled with our severe oxygen deprivation, our movements had become sluggish.
We couldn't block them all.
In an instant, we were entangled by the tongues of these water ghosts around our limbs, necks, and waists.
Suddenly, Old Mo and I were stretched into a "big" shape by these water ghosts' tongues,
Unable to move.
No matter how hard we struggled, we couldn't break free.
It wasn't a lack of power, but a lack of breath and strength.
The ghoul, watching us struggle, seemed to relish it.
It cackled nearby,
"In this water, I am king!
You are merely my prey."
Its voice was piercing, and we heard it clearly.
We wanted to curse it, but couldn't open our mouths.
And after it spoke, its mouth slowly opened,
Its tongue extending inch by inch,
A red tongue, like a snake, slithering towards us.
Ten feet, seven feet, three feet.
In a flash, the tongue was before my face.
I saw clearly that the tongue was covered in barbs.
A single lick would have torn off a piece of flesh.
But the tongue didn't pause, reaching directly for my mouth.
Wavering before my lips.
The ghoul, its voice raspy, spoke:
"Let's see how long you can hold your breath..."
It intended to wait until I couldn't hold my breath any longer, then shove its tongue into my mouth to absorb my vital essence.
Gritting my teeth, I glanced at Old Mo, who, like me, was holding his breath and on the verge of passing out.
Yet, in our eyes, there was no fear.
My master had said: upon embarking on this path, one must accept this reality.
Living by the blade, with one's head hanging by a thread.
One must be prepared for this day.
Looking at the ghoul's disgusting form,
If I had to die, I certainly wouldn't let this ghost get its tongue into my mouth.
I lifted my head, displaying defiance.
The ghoul, seeing this, continued its sinister grin:
"Don't resist. Your taste is very special.
Open your mouth quickly and let me savor it..."
Saying this, the barbed tongue attempted to pry open my mouth.
Watching the tongue inch closer, I bit my lip and glared furiously at the ghoul.
A muffled roar of anger emanated from my throat.
But the ghoul paid no heed, its tongue slowly extending.
Old Mo, beside me, also let out a muffled roar, as if saying, "If you're going to eat, eat me first."
My heart sank into despair.
I felt as though I had truly reached my end.
That today, I might die in the river, my martyrdom coming in such a manner.
Hope appeared...