Three missiles trailing blue energy streaks struck the ghosts that had just appeared, pushing them back a few inches. However, this attack not only failed to completely destroy their forms but ignited their fury.
They emitted a shriek inaudible to ordinary people, shattering the glass and pulling the precarious yellow leaves from the treetops.
The amount of magic a person can use in a day is fixed because everyone's mental strength is limited, and casting spells requires sufficient mental strength to support it, much like expending physical strength.
Depleted mental strength also requires sufficient rest to recover, and Salomon was now very close to this limit.
But mages always have a solution—after seeing that the magic missiles couldn't do much, he immediately grabbed John, who was leaning against the wall gasping for breath, and turned to run.
I don't think anyone can blame Salomon for not fighting and fleeing; isn't it normal to run when you can't win?
But unfortunately, these ghosts didn't want Salomon to leave their sight; the White family's heirloom was still in Salomon's pocket.
"I... I can run myself!" John said breathlessly. Although he couldn't see, he still tried his best to move his tired legs and run forward wildly.
He had read in books about what happened to people possessed by ghosts, and the ghosts chasing them were obviously very powerful evil spirits.
He just wanted to know now why the Ancient One would let Salomon come to retrieve these things; this was clearly not something they could deal with, and he didn't expect to have the same good luck as last time.
Now he missed the soft chairs in the cafe, where he could sit comfortably and eat some delicious pastries, instead of being covered in dirt, his legs weak, and his breathing difficult as he was now.
Now the two were fleeing in panic in the wasteland outside the city; neither of them had ever thought they would be so miserable one day.
To say they were scurrying like rats with their heads in their hands was already praising them; anyone who saw their dusty and disheveled appearance would think they were running for their lives.
Salomon ran while taking a piece of parchment from his waist pocket and tearing it open; the silver magic particles attached to his body and quickly disappeared.
He took out another piece of parchment and cast the same spell on John; after doing these things, he immediately slowed down his pace, walked a few steps forward, then turned back and put his hands together.
"Hurry up!" Little Mage John stopped after seeing Salomon stop; his face was already full of anxiety.
Now he just wanted to find a public phone to call Kamar-Taj for help, "What do you want to do?"
"Fight! Brother John, now they can't possess us, we can have a good fight."
Orange-red sparks appeared between Salomon's palms; he separated his hands, and several lines of sparks danced and transformed between his palms.
"What? Are you crazy?" Little Mage John's eyes widened.
"The Ancient One's directive—this operation will only be known to us, we cannot request assistance," Salomon said.
The three rings can control the magic of the Vishanti; he absolutely cannot let other people in Kamar-Taj know about this.
The function of the rings can be said to be a desecration of the Vishanti.
If some stubborn individuals in Kamar-Taj knew about this, the Ancient One's plan to remove the worship of the Vishanti would be in vain.
Once this private matter is brought to the surface, there will be nothing the Ancient One can do.
Salomon absolutely supported the Ancient One's plan; the Vishanti were not gods, and the Sorcerer Supreme and the Vishanti were merely in a transactional relationship.
From beginning to end, it was the relationship of an atheist, or the pride of the mages in the memories Salomon had received.
He absolutely could not stand having a "god" constantly riding on his head; if the Ancient One had not explained to him that his own magic could not compare to the endless magic of the Vishanti, he would have preferred to use his own life force to refine magic.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at the ghosts rushing towards them madly, continuing to wave his fingers; the beams of magic formed by the Vishanti's magic became denser in his hands, and the arcs of magic light emitting sparks took shape between Salomon's palms.
This was his most powerful Demonic Flame Shaping spell at the moment.
He didn't know if these ghosts were enhanced by magic or if it was because of their large numbers; from Salomon's perspective, these ghosts were flickering with pink light, which should be the power that kept them in this world, but their feet were covered with a black mist.
"Thief... return..." Seeing Salomon stop, they also issued their final ultimatum, "Return... you... leave..."
When they gathered together, the black mist under their feet became more condensed, and the temperature also dropped accordingly; on the street where there had just been a light rain, the accumulated water had frozen into a thin layer of white ice.
"F*ck off!" Salomon threw out the chain of magic; the scorching positive energy magic constantly jumped between the ghosts, making a sizzling sound like a hot branding iron.
Countless ghosts immediately stopped and let out wails.
"Die..." They suddenly pounced, but what greeted them was a large materialized magic saber.
Although Salomon was not very proficient in Baji Quan, he still knew how to use a saber.
He fiercely slashed this saber made of sparks at a ghost; the body made of negative energy was cut open with a crack, but the other ghosts that followed knocked him over several times.
Just as those ghosts were about to pounce, a hand suddenly slapped one of the ghosts to the ground.
Little Mage John was finally able to see the faces of the ghosts after using the arcane arts; when he saw Salomon in danger, he couldn't sit still any longer.
He cast a protective spell that the Ancient One had compiled from other grimoires and used a tiger pounce to save Salomon.
"What do we do now?" Little Mage John asked anxiously after dragging Salomon out; his face was almost wrinkled into a ball.
Since the Ancient One didn't want others to know about their actions, then this matter could only be resolved by themselves.
"I..." Salomon didn't know what to do for a moment; these ghosts were the most powerful enemies he had encountered so far.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cold air; when he opened his eyes again, he had already made up his mind.
"Help me hold them off for a while, and I can deal with them," Salomon said, reaching into his pocket.
When he touched the other two rings, the originally cold rings became warm.
Little Mage John nodded solemnly; now that the ghosts couldn't possess them, the magic he had learned was enough to hold off those ghosts for a while.
Salomon took his hand out of his pocket; he opened his palm, and the orange and pink gems on the other two rings emitted a light that was hard to look away from.
He took another deep breath and quickly put the other two rings on the middle and ring fingers of his right hand.
In an instant, the warm metal became scorching hot, clinging tightly to his fingers like burning metal, and Salomon couldn't help but scream.
"Salomon!" Little Mage John quickly turned his head.
He saw Salomon kneeling on the ground, enveloped in flames made of magic; the edges of his robe were already scorched yellow, and his long black curly hair was also burned and twisted.
The terrifying high temperature expanded the air, pushing Little Mage John back a few steps.
The ghosts were even more in a mess; the massive amount of magic easily broke through their forms, and the skeletons made of spiritual bodies disintegrated in the air, turning into the purest magic.
"Don't come near me!" Salomon shouted, but his voice was no longer clear to anyone, because the high temperature had made his throat and tongue extremely dry.
The scorching hot air burned his lungs; every time he spoke a word, he couldn't help but retch and spit out some thick, unrecognizable dark red liquid.
But soon his throat would become extremely dry again, like rubbing sandpaper, and Salomon could only utter vague words that no one could understand.
At this time, the skin on his hands had already blistered from the heat, and the flowing blood instantly dried up; the sweat dripping from his forehead was also instantly evaporated, and his lips were tight, cracked, and peeling.
Immediately after, the high temperature intensified further, and Salomon wailed again; parts of the skin all over his body began to char and carbonize, and the asphalt ground beneath his feet even melted and softened.
Severe dehydration and high temperature caused Salomon's consciousness to fall into chaos; Little Mage John saw that his skin had become extremely yellow, layer after layer of skin became dry and fragile, and then peeled off, revealing the bright red muscle tissue underneath, which was no longer bleeding.
But even so, Salomon subconsciously raised his head; although he could no longer see anything clearly, he knew that in the void invisible to ordinary people, where magic converged, three faces appeared.
A tiger, a man, and a woman.
Hoggoth, Agamotto, and Oshtur.
"F*ck you, Vishanti," Salomon raised his hand; he felt like he could hear the friction of dry bones and muscles, but the words he wanted to say did not come out.
This was because his vocal cords were already covered with dried blood, and his tongue was stuck to his lower jaw by the blood; he couldn't say a single word at all.
Salomon used his last strength to unbutton the Shroud.