Zhao Zimai was already puzzled by Mu Cripple's series of strange behaviors, but because he was focusing on Yan Qingcheng's injuries at the moment, he didn't make a sound. However, when he heard Mu Cripple say such an unbelievable sentence, he still had to raise his head and glance at the ebony coffin.

But such a glance made him almost cry out, because he saw a figure close to transparent, lying on top of the coffin, sobbing softly.

"Say that you are weak, and you can really see things that ordinary people can't see." Mu Xiaowu lowered his head and looked at Zhao Zimai with interest, slowly reached over a hand, hooked his chin, and grinned at the corner of his mouth, "Your skin is good, if you don't get used to using this body, I will leave her and go to you." ”

If it were normal times, someone dared to make such a rude move to him Zhao Dagongzi, that hand would have been abolished long ago. But now, Zhao Zimai didn't move, only staring at Mu Xiaowu's face, and his snort became more and more disordered.

"Who are you?" He tried his best to maintain his composure and not let his voice tremble, because when Mu Xiaowu lowered his head, he saw those red eyes again, "Why are you occupying Miss Mu's body?" ”

Mu Xiaowu put his hand down and tilted his head at Mu Cripple, "Old man, tell him how I answered you when you asked this question." ”

Mu Cripple's eyes flickered, swallowed his saliva, and whispered, "One, you don't know who you are, and two, if you ask more, you will screw my head." ”

Hearing this, Yan Qingcheng, who had been in a state of confusion, also turned his head to look over, and asked weakly, "Senior Mu, what do you mean by this?" ”

Mu Cripple didn't know how to reply to him, so he laughed dryly and perfunctorily. Mu Xiaowu put his hands behind his back, looked up at the ebony coffin in the center of the courtyard, and slammed his mouth and said, "The newly dead ghost is tasteless to eat, and it's a pity to abandon it." ”

"Newly dead ghosts." Zhao Zimai repeated these four words, his heart suddenly shrank suddenly, and then swelled again, beating suddenly in his chest. He looked at the man who had pounced on the coffin and finally recognized him.

"Brother Yuchi......" He hesitated to call out his name, but at this moment, there was a sudden "ding" sound in his ears, the voice dragged on for a long time, and there was a buzzing trill, which brought up the messy hair on Zhao Zimai's sideburns.

The copper needle flew towards the coffin, it was a little different from the last time Zhao Zimai saw it, it was surrounded by a layer of molten red light, which was a little dazzling by the dark night, like clusters of small flames. In just the blink of an eye, the needle had already passed through Yan Yuchi's soul, and the white thread at the end of the needle dragged the soul, as if shackling him, flying straight in the direction of Mu Xiaowu and falling steadily into her palm.

Mu Xiaowu picked up the needle with one hand and threw it backwards, throwing it into the wooden box in Mu Cripple's hand, and with the other hand, he took advantage of the situation to pick up the white line, grabbing Yan Yuchi's soul in his hand.

Zhao Zimai was stunned: What is she going to do? He had seen Mu Xiaowu embroider the soul, and the needle went to the soul, and this is how she transformed Cuiyun's soul. But now, why didn't she use that needle?

His doubts were quickly solved.

Mu Xiaowu lifted Yan Yuchi's still struggling soul like carrying a puppy, and gently shook it in mid-air, a weird smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes rolled leisurely, reflecting a touch of brilliance that could not be concealed, "Burned by the fire, it hurts after all, bear with it." ”

"Skyfire?" Zhao Zaimai's eyebrows furrowed, and just as he wanted to ask again, he saw a puff of flames suddenly rising from Mu Xiaowu's palm, crimson, and the blue light on the top of the flame flashed, although it was dazzling, it was the same flame.

"Tianhuo ......" Zhao Zaimai silently recited these two words in his heart, Tianhuo, is this what it looks like? At the same time, he suddenly remembered what Mu Xiaowu said last time: The body is dead, it is not really dead, the body and soul are scattered, and the desire and hatred are gone, this person is considered dead.

"Zimai, Miss Mu, what is she talking about, why can't I understand?" Yan Qingcheng also saw the flame in Mu Xiaowu's palm, and he was shocked in his heart.

Zhao Zimai knew that he couldn't see Yan Yuchi's soul, so he sighed, leaned over and comforted, "Qingcheng, you rest for a while, don't talk, Lang Zhong will be there in a while." ”

As soon as he said this, Mu Xiaowu let out a contemptuous cold snort, his eyebrows raised slightly, and a sub spat out on his lips, "Burn." ”

But the flame only shook twice, and then sprang up a few inches, and then returned to its original form, swaying lazily in the palm of her hand. Yan Yuchi's soul didn't seem to feel the burning of the flames, and it didn't show the slightest bit of struggle and pain.

A trace of annoyance appeared on Mu Xiaowu's face, she shook her hand violently, and locked her brows deeply, "Why can't it burn?" After sleeping for so long, I lost all my housekeeping skills. ”

This kind of occasion should have been sad and solemn, but Zhao Zaimai suddenly wanted to laugh: such a delicate girl, such a domineering tone, but with such a frustrated and annoyed look a bit like a child, it is really the most inappropriate and weird combination in the world.

But in the next moment, the smile on Zhao Zamai's face suddenly disappeared, his eyes widened, and he shouted at Mu Xiaowu, "Be careful." ”

Mu Xiaowu was startled by his voice, and before she could react, there was already a biting chill at her wrist, she looked down and saw that Yan Yuchi was biting her Daling acupoint, biting her wrist out a row of blood marks.

Her face sank, and she felt a wave of heat rise from the soles of her feet, rushing straight to the top of her skull, eager to fly through this body.

"Burn." She let out a low roar with a calm face, sending the heat wave in her body to the flames in her palm. The flames exploded, and a ball of fireball rose from the palm of his hand, encircling Yan Yuchi in the middle.

Zhao Zaimai vaguely saw that the middle spires of the fireball, like a pagoda, towering into the clouds, were very brilliant.

"What is this?" He vaguely felt that these spires were somewhat familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere, but before he could think about them, a terrible cry came from his ears, like a biting cold wind, circling around the fireball.

With a "snap", the fireball burst open, and the flames turned into clusters of tiny beams of light, which slowly rose into the sky, dissipated, and disappeared after a while. Zhao Zaimai looked at Mu Xiaowu's flat palm, now there was nothing on it, no fire, no strange spires, only delicate palm prints, crossing and converging in her fine white palm.