Ghost Exorciser: The Oust Fake Heiress Strikes-Chapter 342 - 340: Sword
’He used them... to rush back to the hotel... just to retrieve this bracelet...’
Without hesitation, she grabbed the jade bracelet and slipped it onto her wrist.
The moment it touched her skin, a wave of reassurance flowed through her body, warm and steady, like being wrapped in invisible arms.
She looked back toward Shelley.
Only then did she notice that Shelley was not fighting alone.
Rim was there as well.
The sight stunned her.
She had never imagined that, at her most desperate moment, it would be Shelley who stood between her and death.
Yet the shock lasted no more than two seconds before Shelley’s voice cut through the chaos.
"Lana! Leave! Now!"
Lana stared at her, bewildered.
"If you can survive, why don’t you leave with me?" she shouted back.
Shelley gritted her teeth, barely dodging a lethal strike.
"Don’t be ridiculous! It was this university’s fault for dragging you here as an exchange student. Protecting this place is my responsibility, not yours! I don’t have the right to leave before everyone is saved. Leave!"
Lana froze, taken aback by the conviction in her voice.
Looking around, she noticed students desperately helping the injured, supporting those who could not stand, refusing to abandon one another even as danger loomed.
Only then did Lana realize something.
In her own university, such a disaster would have sent everyone scrambling for their own survival. No one would have looked back.
But here, at Spineridge University, there was unity.
No one ran.
No one abandoned the fallen.
They were afraid, yet they still chose responsibility.
Lana clenched her fists and turned toward the entrance. She did not look back. \
She was not strong enough to fight, and she would not pretend to be a hero when she could barely stand.
’I would only get in the way...’
Yet when she reached the doorway, she instinctively glanced back.
Her entire body froze.
Shelley and Rim were still battling the cloaked man.
And then...
In one swift, merciless motion, the cloaked man struck.
He killed Rim.
Lana’s eyes widened as the world seemed to slow, every sound muffled, every movement dragging as though time itself resisted continuing.
She watched, helpless, as the sword emerged and drove straight toward Rim’s heart.
The blade pierced through.
Rim’s breathing hitched.
She collapsed, eyes wide with disbelief, as if she could not accept such a cruel end.
Shelley screamed.
"Rim!"
She attacked with desperation, but Lana could already see it, the despair clouding Shelley’s eyes, the tremble in her lips.
Shelley had never truly been able to match the cloaked man. Even with Rim’s help, she had only barely held on.
Now she was being completely overpowered.
Lana’s fists tightened until her nails dug into her palms.
’I don’t care... I don’t care...’
But her gaze remained fixed on Rim’s lifeless body, and a shrill ringing filled her ears.
A voice deep within her heart spoke.
’Can you really walk away?’
’Will you truly feel that you owe nothing to anyone?’
’Will surviving like this satisfy you... while others rot in this hell?’
’Will you never regret not even trying?’
Lana gritted her teeth, fury rising within her.
’I hate this part of myself...’
Mr. Crow’s anxious voice reached her.
"Lana, why are you frozen? We must not waste this chance!"
Lana shook her head sharply, as if trying to silence the storm inside her.
Then, without another word, she turned...
And ran back toward Shelley.
Mr. Crow shouted, "What are you doing?!"
Panic filled his voice as he hurried after her. For a fleeting moment, he almost used his ability to forcibly drag Lana back toward the entrance, yet Lana shook her head violently.
"Don’t!" she yelled.
Her voice rang so sharply across the ground that even the cloaked man turned to look at her.
Lana’s eyes were no longer filled with hesitation. They had turned cold, frighteningly resolute.
"If I run away today," she said, her voice trembling yet firm, "I will despise myself for the rest of my life. Even if I become some great cultivator in the future, it will mean nothing."
Mr. Crow frowned deeply.
"Forget those meaningless morals!" he shouted. "In these worlds, survival is the greatest blessing you can have!"
Lana did not respond. She simply rushed forward.
By the time his words faded, she had already reached the cloaked man.
Shelley’s eyes widened in disbelief.
"Lana, what are you doing?!" she cried.
But Lana did not answer. Her mind was racing.
’If only I had a sword...’
Her empty hands felt unbearably inadequate.
Then a sudden thought struck her.
’If I don’t have one... then I will create one.’
Her heart pounded as she raised her hand. Mystic energy surged from within her body, raw and unstable, gathering like a storm forced into shape.
The cloaked man frowned when he sensed the fluctuation, and then he laughed, the sound mocking and full of disdain, as if he were watching a child attempt the impossible.
Shelley’s face paled.
"Don’t!" she screamed.
But it was already too late.
Lana had begun channeling her energy.
Shelley nearly closed her eyes in despair.
’This girl... is completely reckless.’
To shape mystic energy required immense cultivation, precise control, and years of discipline.
Even seasoned cultivators failed countless times before succeeding once.
Yet Lana was attempting it as if she knew nothing of the consequences.
During their earlier fight, Shelley had already understood Lana’s level.
Lana had not defeated her through strength, but through surprise and the use of external tools.
Had Shelley taken her seriously from the start, the fight would have ended in three moves.
Now Lana was attempting something she had never demonstrated before.
It was obvious. Lana did not know what she was doing.
She was courting death.
After exhausting all her energy, she would collapse, completely defenseless. And even then, the attempt would fail. No mystic cultivator in history had ever materialized a sword in a single try.
As that thought crossed Shelley’s mind, tears welled in her eyes.
