The entrance to the Black Iron Ant Mound was like a greedy mouth, swallowing him whole. His boot soles sank into the thick, viscous sludge, emitting a teeth-grating squelch. The air was so dense it felt like one could wring out sour, rotten juice, mingled with the rusty tang of metal and the distinct, rank odor of biological fluids. The rustling sounds of pursuit behind were cut off by the thick mound walls, becoming a distant, persistent thrumming. Light vanished completely; only by coating his eyes with spiritual power could he barely see—in his vision, everything was stained a sickly dark green hue. Lin Yi stopped, straining his ears. Apart from his own suppressed breathing, there was only the long-spaced *drip* of mucus falling from jagged bone spurs. Too quiet. Unnaturally quiet. “Shi Meng.” Shi Meng walked three paces ahead. The giant’s shoulders nearly scraped the top of the ant tunnel. Each step fell heavily, shaking the walls and causing fine bone fragments and mucus to patter down. His hand gripping the heavy sword had knuckles turned pale blue-white from excessive force, the veins on the back bulging like earthworms. Lin Yi’s gaze lingered on that hand for half a breath before shifting to the taut nape of his neck—a fresh scrape there was oozing dark red droplets of blood, mixing into the sticky surroundings. “Halt.” Shi Meng’s voice was pressed low, like sandpaper grating on iron. Lin Yi’s footsteps froze abruptly. He listened intently, his spiritual power spreading out like a spider’s web into the tunnel ahead. From the distance came the dense scraping sound of arthropod limbs, approaching and then gradually fading away—a patrol of worker ants. He held his breath until the sound completely vanished deep within the labyrinthine passages. The two continued forward. The ant tunnel was *moving*. It wasn’t an illusion. Lin Yi’s fingertips brushed the inner wall. Beneath the damp, cold, sticky sensation, he could feel the chitinous surface contracting and expanding in an extremely slow rhythm, like the intestines of some colossal creature. Fragmented bone shards were embedded in the mucus, their edges sharp enough to cut skin. He looked down and saw that where he had just stood, the corpses of several juvenile ants were slowly being “swallowed” into the wall, leaving behind only a few twitching limb segments. This place was alive. And filled with malice. “Senior Brother Shi,” Lin Yi spoke, his voice even lower than before, but his pace deliberately slowed, creating a peculiar sense of pressure in the enclosed space. “Have you noticed anything unusual about this place?” Shi Meng’s footsteps didn’t stop, but his shoulder blades gave a slight twitch. “The flow of spiritual power is chaotic,” Lin Yi continued, his gaze fixed on Shi Meng’s back. “A nest has its own circulation, but here… the spiritual power seems forcibly scrambled by an external force. Something is interfering.” A coarse, raspy response came from ahead. “Mm.” Just one word. Lin Yi’s fingertips unconsciously tapped the hilt of his sword at his waist, emitting a faint *tap, tap* sound. This was his habit when thinking—a rhythm carrying a sense of pressure. He waited for Shi Meng to continue, but the giant only walked forward in silence, the tip of his heavy sword dragging through the ground, plowing a shallow furrow in the mucus. “There’s also a scorched smell,” Lin Yi added. This time, Shi Meng stopped. He turned around. In the dark green field of vision, his rugged face was smeared with blood and mucus of unknown origin. His eyes gleamed with a faint, beast-like light in the darkness, fixed on Lin Yi. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The charred residue of talismanic seals,” Shi Meng’s voice grew even hoarser, like gravel grating in his throat. “Very faint. But it can’t escape this old man’s nose.” He paused. A faint bluish vein on the side of his neck bulged and pulsed. “It’s the technique of the Xuan Yin lineage,” Shi Meng added, each word seeming squeezed from between his teeth. “That old dog… never does anything without being sure.” Lin Yi’s tapping fingertips stilled. He caught that word—“never.” It meant Shi Meng had a considerable understanding of Xuan Yin Zhenren’s way of doing things, possibly even personal experience. This wasn’t the tone of a pawn temporarily coerced. This was… the mark left by some kind of longer-term, deeper connection. “Ahead,” Shi Meng suddenly turned, lifting his heavy sword to point towards a slightly wider fork deep in the ant tunnel. “The smell comes from there. It’ The ant tunnel abruptly widened here, the ceiling rising to over twice a man's height. Dense holes began to appear on the walls, each the size of a fist, pitch-black inside, their destinations unknown. Lin Yi's spiritual sense swept over those holes, feeding back a chaotic, hostile mass of life reactions — worker ants, a number so vast it made one's scalp prickle. But they all seemed to be in some kind of dormant state, not immediately surging out. What were they waiting for? The viscous fluid underfoot grew thicker, almost submerging their ankles. Each step required strenuous effort to pull a foot free from the sticky, bone-fragment-laden muck. Lin Yi's breathing began to grow labored, not from exhaustion, but from an intangible pressure in the air — spiritual power was being suppressed here. He tried to mobilize the meager, recently re-condensed trickle of spiritual power in his dantian, only to find its circulation sluggish, like rusted gears. Shi Meng clearly felt it too. His grip on his sword tightened further, the veins on the back of his hand almost bursting. His breathing echoed in the enclosed ant tunnel, heavy, oppressive, carrying a kind of trapped-beast-like agitation. "Something's wrong," Lin Yi suddenly said. This wasn't a probe. His gaze was fixed dead ahead — at the end of the fork, a faint, dark red light was vaguely visible. The light wasn't steady, but flickering rapidly, like a heartbeat, or... the rhythm of some kind of talisman activating. Shi Meng didn't answer. He just quickened his pace, heavy sword held horizontally before him, his entire body like a moving wall, blocking the space between Lin Yi and that red light. The action was so natural it made Lin Yi's pupils contract slightly — even knowing he might be manipulated, Shi Meng's first instinct was still to stand in front. A disguise? Or had the restriction not been triggered yet? Or... were some of this giant man's instincts deeper than any restriction? No time to ponder. The two of them were already closing in on the end of the fork. Their field of view suddenly opened up. It was a massive chamber, over ten *zhang* high, its width extending beyond sight. In the center of the chamber, a mountain of piled insect shells and undigested bones formed a twisted "mountain." And atop that "mountain" — Lin Yi's breath caught for half a beat. Dark golden carapace, under the flickering red light, flowed with a molten, lava-like sheen. Six pairs of compound eyes, each bulging with bloodshot veins, spun madly, locking onto every direction. Its mandibles opened and closed, dripping corrosive fluid that burned sizzling pits into the ground. Its massive body, like a small hill, twisted frantically, each struggle shaking the entire chamber, causing dust and broken shells to rain down. Iron Ant Queen. But this was no normal Iron Ant Queen. A normal queen was bloated, sluggish, reclusive. The one before them... it was like a live shrimp thrown into boiling oil, every inch of its carapace stretched to the limit, bluish-black blood vessels bulging and pulsing beneath the shell as if about to burst at any moment. Embedded deep into its carapace were three talisman papers. Dark red talisman papers, their edges already charred and curled, but the talisman patterns shone with a piercing brightness, like three greedy eyes, frantically siphoning the queen's vast life force, converting it into pure, destructive frenzy. With each flicker of red light, the queen's convulsions intensified, the shrieks from its mandibles grew sharper. Blood-Burning Talismans. The vicious methods of the Xuan Yin lineage, specifically used to stimulate a demon beast's potential, overdraw its life, and create chaotic battlefield cannon fodder. Usually, one was enough to drive a third-tier demon beast mad to death. And here... there were three. Lin Yi's fingertips turned icy. This wasn't a simple "backup plan." This was a meticulously designed killing trap — using Blood-Burning Talismans to enrage the Iron Ant Queen, making it the deadliest core of the trap within this nest. And he and Shi Meng were the prey being herded into it. "Blood-Burning Talismans..." Lin Yi's voice was soft, carrying a chill he himself hadn't noticed, "More than one." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the queen's frantically convulsing body before returning to the three flickering red talismans. "Someone wants it mad," he said, each word like an ice spike, "And wants us dead here." Beside him, Shi Meng's muscles instantly tensed into rock. Lin Yi could hear the grating sound of his clenched teeth, could see the faint bluish vein on the side of his neck The shriek abruptly rose in pitch, piercing their eardrums. From the densely packed holes in the chamber walls, a tidal wave of soldier ants instantly surged forth—dark brown carapaces, sharp mandibles, compound eyes gleaming with a ferocity infected by the queen's frenzied aura. Like a black tide, they instantly sealed off the fork from which the two men had come and surged towards them. The retreat was cut off. Dead ahead, the massive body of the Iron Ant Queen began to move. Unlike a normal queen's clumsiness, it possessed a bizarre agility born of pain and madness. Its six thick, jointed limbs scraped across the ground, producing a teeth-grating metallic screech. Each step shook the earth. Shi Meng let out a low roar, raising his heavy sword, its tip pointing at the queen. "Back to back!" he barked, short and uncompromising. Lin Yi didn't hesitate. He took a step sideways, pressing his back against Shi Meng's broad, tense one. In that instant, he could feel the volcanic, suppressed tremor emanating from within Shi Meng's body, could smell the heavy scent of sweat and blood on him, and… a faint, strange odor like corroding metal. Was that the scent of the restraint? No time to examine it closely. The tide of soldier ants was already washing over their feet. Combat was imminent. *** Shi Meng's body was heavy as a mountain, pressing down until Lin Yi's arms went numb. The wound from the tail sting was still seeping blood, warm liquid flowing along the gaps in the armor plates, dripping onto Lin Yi's knees, soaking through the fabric of his clothes. He let go, letting Shi Meng slowly lie on his side on the ground. He couldn't pull out the sting. Pulling it now would make the blood spurt out, and the man would die instantly. Lin Clean. A pawn sent to carry out an assassination shouldn't be this clean. Unless Xuan Yin never intended for him to return alive, or... Xuan Yin had another way to control him. Lin Yi's gaze fell back onto those pale blue patterns. A restraint. He didn't understand advanced talisman or restraint techniques, but Mo Chen had taught him some basic principles—any control-type restraint required an "anchor point." It could be the target's essence-blood, a fragment of their soul, or some personal object serving as a medium. An old fox like Xuan Yin wouldn't rely solely on one restraint. There must be something else. Lin Yi reached out and gently brushed aside Shi Meng's messy hair from his forehead. Right in the center of his forehead, half an inch below the hairline, the skin color had an extremely subtle difference—slightly lighter than the surrounding area, about the size of a fingernail, irregular in shape. It was impossible to notice without careful inspection. Lin Yi gathered a trace of barely perceptible spiritual energy at his fingertip and lightly pressed down. *Hum—* A faint, almost undetectable resistance came from beneath the skin, like touching an invisible membrane. Immediately after, that patch of skin grew slightly warm. The pale blue patterns spread upward from the neck, trying to connect to this point, but seemed blocked by something. The patterns writhed chaotically near the forehead a few times before slowly receding. Lin Yi withdrew his hand, his eyes darkening. A seal. Shi Meng himself, or someone helping him, had placed a seal here, temporarily isolating the restraint's direct erosion of the head. That's why he could maintain moments of clarity in battle, could still defy the order. But this seal was loosening. The contact just now caused a brief confrontation between the seal and the restraint. A few more times, or if Shi Meng suffered another heavy injury, the seal might completely shatter. Then, the restraint would advance unimpeded, reaching directly into the soul... Lin Yi remembered Shi Meng's words before he lost consciousness. "I might... lose control." He silently sat back down, leaning against the insect carapace, and closed his eyes. The smell in the nest was foul—blood, scorched stench, sour rot, the fishy reek of mucus all mixed together, like a pot of boiled-over poison soup. From afar, the faint sound of dripping water could be heard. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* So regular it grated on the nerves. Time passed bit by bit. He didn't know how long it had been when Shi Meng's breathing suddenly changed. From weak and erratic to rough and rapid, as if struggling in a nightmare. His body began to twitch slightly. Blood seeped from the wound on his shoulder, staining the newly bandaged cloth. The pale blue patterns beneath his skin lit up again, clearer than before, pulsing faster, as if something was trying to break out. Lin Yi opened his eyes but didn't move. He watched Shi Meng writhe in agony in his unconscious state, veins bulging at his temples, teeth grinding audibly. The patterns spread from his neck to his cheeks, climbing up his temples, their color deepening from pale blue to dark blue, almost piercing through the skin. The seal was collapsing. The restraint was counterattacking. Lin Yi slowly stood up, walked to Shi Meng's side, and crouched down. He reached out, not to suppress him, but to gently place his palm over the seal on Shi Meng's forehead. He had almost no spiritual energy left, but he still squeezed out a thread, injecting it with extreme gentleness. Not to oppose the restraint. But to reinforce that teetering seal. The cool spiritual energy flowed like a fine stream, seeping into the skin, moving along the edges of the seal, mending those invisible cracks. Shi Meng's bodily twitching gradually subsided. His breathing, though still rough, was no longer so agonized. The dark blue patterns spreading across his face slowly receded back to his neck like an ebbing tide. Lin Yi withdrew his hand, his complexion paling further. He slumped back, panting, looking at Shi Meng's now peaceful sleeping face. Why save him? He didn't know. Maybe because of that shoulder that knocked him aside. Maybe because of the protective talisman his mother gave him. Maybe just because... in this desperate situation filled with malice and schemes, a soul trying to resist control shouldn't just rot away like this. Lin Yi tugged at the corner of his mouth. How laughable. He leaned against the insect carapace, closed his eyes, and forced himself to rest. Spiritual energy needed to recover. Stamina needed to be conserved. They hadn't even left the nest yet. Xuan Yin's backup plans might not stop at this one. And this unconscious man beside him was both a benefactor and a bomb. *Tap.* *Tap.* *Tap.* The Shi Meng half-kneeled on the ground, left hand propped on his sword hilt, right hand desperately clutching the hideous wound at his shoulder. Blood was still gushing out, seeping through his fingers, flowing down his arm, and dripping onto the slimy ground with soft *pat*, *pat* sounds. The noise was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent chamber. He kept his head lowered, his heavy breaths carrying suppressed groans of pain. Lin Yi moved over, his footsteps as unsteady as if he were treading on cotton. He tore a relatively clean strip of cloth from the hem of his inner garment, crouched down, and reached out to touch Shi Meng’s wound. As soon as his fingers touched the skin, he felt an unusual burning heat. It wasn’t the heat of bleeding, but a searing sensation of some kind of energy coursing and pulsing beneath the skin. Those pale blue patterns had now crawled all over half of Shi Meng’s neck and collarbone, like a living web faintly glowing under his skin. The edges of the patterns were still slowly squirming, as if alive, trying to extend toward the direction of his heart. Shi Meng abruptly looked up. In those eyes, clarity and confusion were alternating frantically. At times, he seemed like the straightforward Shi Meng of old; at others, his gaze was shrouded by a vacant, controlled haze. He stared at Lin Yi, his lips trembling, teeth grinding audibly, sweat and blood mingling as they trickled down his temples. "...Kid." His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper grinding against iron. Lin Yi didn’t stop, pressing the cloth against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. The blood quickly soaked through the fabric, the warm, sticky sensation transmitting through his fingertips. "Don’t move." "Remember..." Shi Meng gasped for breath, suddenly reaching out and gripping Lin Yi’s wrist with a deathly hold. The strength was astonishing, like an iron clamp. Lin Yi could feel the scalding heat of his palm and the rhythm of the patterns pulsing beneath the skin. *Thump, thump*, as if something were beating against a cage. The pulsing grew faster and faster, the blue of the patterns deepening into a darker shade. Shi Meng’s gaze scattered for a moment, his eyeballs uncontrollably rolling upward and to the left, revealing large whites. But the next second, he violently shook his head, forcibly refocusing, and stared straight into Lin Yi’s eyes. "What I owe you..." He had to pause to catch his breath every few words, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty. "Just now... repaid." Lin Yi’s hand paused. He saw the blue patterns on the side of Shi Meng’s neck suddenly begin to pulse violently the moment those words were spoken, like an enraged nest of snakes. Shi Meng’s entire body shuddered violently, the fingers gripping Lin Yi’s wrist tightening to the point of nearly crushing bone. "...Ugh—" A suppressed groan of pain was squeezed from deep in his throat. "Next time..." Shi Meng’s voice began to drift, his eyes starting to scatter again. He desperately shook his head, veins bulging on his forehead, as if fighting something within his own body. "When... it urges again..." His left hand suddenly released the sword hilt, fingers spasming open, then clenched violently into a fist, smashing hard against his own thigh. A dull *thud* echoed. "I might... lose control." The air fell deathly silent. Only the faint rustling from the distant ant tunnels, whether wind or the squirming of young ants, could be heard. In the chamber, the red glow of the three Blood-Burning Talismans on the ant queen’s corpse was rapidly dimming, like incense burning to its end, leaving only the last remnants of embers. The edges of the talismans were charred and curled, the red talisman lines like dried bloodstains, losing their final luster. Shi Meng stared at Lin Yi, the traces of struggle in his eyes growing fainter, replaced by a near-desperate warning. Something in that gaze was being extinguished—was it willpower, or the last shred of clarity belonging to "Shi Meng"? Lin Yi’s fingertips unconsciously tapped against his own knee. Once, twice. This was his habitual movement when thinking, but the rhythm was somewhat chaotic now. He looked at the pulsing blue patterns on Shi Meng’s neck, several images flashing rapidly through his mind: Xuan Yin Zhenren’s sanctimonious face in the Heart-Questioning Hall, the ominous red glow when the Blood-Burning Talismans embedded into the ant queen’s carapace, and the slight tremor in Shi Meng’s rough palm when he handed over the wooden protective charm. "What triggers the restriction So Master Xuan Yin not only used talismans to provoke the queen ant, but also used them as the "fuse" to trigger the restriction within Shi Meng. A double insurance. If the queen ant couldn’t kill him, then Shi Meng, controlled by the restriction, would finish him off. But Shi Meng resisted. He threw himself forward, pushing him away, taking the queen ant’s tail spike with his shoulder. “Why were you able to break free just now?” Lin Yi asked again. Shi Meng fell silent for an even longer time. He lowered his head to look at the wound on his shoulder. Blood was still seeping out, but the flow seemed to have slowed a little. Those cyan patterns gathered around the wound like a swarm of greedy insects, trying to burrow into the torn flesh. “…It hurts,” Shi Meng said hoarsely. “It hurts like hell. So much… that the thread in my head snapped.” He raised his head, looking at Lin Yi with a complicated expression. “And… that shove of yours. The force was off. You weren’t trying to kill me, you were… trying to push me away.” Lin Yi didn’t speak. He had indeed made a choice in that split second. Not the most rational solution, not letting the queen ant and the restriction wear each other down. Instead, he had charged forward, shoved Shi Meng aside, exposing himself to the queen ant’s attack range. Why? He couldn’t explain it himself. Maybe it was because the warmth of the wooden protective charm from the chasm still lingered in his memory. Maybe it was Shi Meng’s eyes, filled with struggle, that reminded him of a certain moment three years ago when the Heavenly Punishment descended, his spiritual roots shattered, lying by the cold pool with no one to care. They were both beasts chained by shackles. “Is the restriction still active now?” Lin Yi changed the question. Shi Meng closed his eyes, as if sensing something. After a few breaths, he opened them again, and the confusion in his gaze deepened. “…Yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s like… the tide has receded a little, but it’s still rising. I can feel it… waiting for me to relax, or… waiting for the next command.” He suddenly grabbed Lin Yi’s wrist again, with even more force than before. “Listen, kid.” Shi Meng stared at him, each word seeming to be ground out from between his teeth. “I owed you. I repaid it just now. But next time… next time it stirs again, I might…” Another suppressed low growl escaped his throat. His left hand suddenly lifted uncontrollably, fingers spread, reaching toward Lin Yi’s neck. The movement was slow, as if resisting some immense force, his fingertips trembling violently. Lin Yi didn’t move. He watched as that hand drew closer and closer, now only three inches, two inches from his throat… Shi Meng’s other hand suddenly grabbed his own left wrist, wrenching it backward with force. A light *crack* sounded from the bone. His entire face twisted, sweat and blood dripping from his chin. “Go…” Shi Meng forced the word out through gritted teeth. “Now… go now!” Lin Yi still didn’t move. He lowered his head and pulled out the “Heart-Protecting Jade Pendant” Mo Chen had given him from his chest. The jade pendant felt warm and smooth to the touch, its surface ancient characters glowing with an extremely faint light in the dim light. He hesitated for an instant, then reached out and gently pressed the jade pendant against the very center of Shi Meng’s forehead—the spot where the cyan patterns were densest and pulsing most violently. Shi Meng’s whole body stiffened. The moment the jade pendant touched his skin, those pulsating patterns suddenly stilled for an instant. Not disappearing, but as if something had pressed a pause button. The clarity and chaos alternating wildly in Shi Meng’s eyes also briefly froze in a state of near bewilderment. But it only lasted for three breaths. After three breaths, the patterns began pulsing again, even more violently and wildly than before. Shi Meng let out a pained grunt, his whole body tilting backward, collapsing heavily to the ground. The jade pendant slipped from Lin Yi’s hand, falling into the mucus. Lin Yi picked up the jade pendant, wiped the filth from its surface, and tucked it back into his chest. Its warmth remained, but seemed fainter than before. He looked at Shi Meng lying on the ground—the latter was now completely unconscious, breathing heavily and irregularly, blood seeping again from the wound on his shoulder. Those cyan patterns had now spread to his chest. Like a net tightening. Lin Yi slowly stood up, looking around. The chamber was a complete Lin Yi bent down, trying to drape Shi Meng's uninjured right arm over his own shoulder. As soon as he exerted force, his knees buckled, nearly sending both of them crashing to the ground. He clenched his teeth, steadied himself, and slowly, inch by inch, dragged Shi Meng upright. Blood smeared all over him. Sticky, warm, and rapidly cooling. He dragged this heavy body, step by step, deeper into the ant tunnel. His steps were unsteady, each one feeling like treading on a knife's edge. The slimy ground made him slip, and he almost fell several times. The chamber behind them gradually receded, darkness surging in from all sides. Only Shi Meng's ragged breathing and his own increasingly heavy heartbeat echoed in the narrow ant tunnel. After walking about a dozen *zhang*, Lin Yi finally couldn't hold on any longer and slid down to sit against the inner wall of the tunnel. Shi Meng's body pressed heavily on his legs, dense as a stone. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. The weakness brought by his depleted spiritual power flooded his limbs and bones like a tide, a buzzing filling his head. He closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing, but his dantian was utterly empty; he couldn't even stir a wisp of spiritual energy. In the darkness, his senses became unusually sharp. He heard faint sounds of limbs scraping against the ground in the distance—not one, but a group. Worker ants were gathering toward the chamber's direction. Perhaps they would soon discover the Ant Queen's corpse and then follow the scent to pursue them. He heard Shi Meng's breathing growing increasingly erratic, sometimes rapid, sometimes halting, as if struggling in a nightmare. He also heard... the sound of his own fingers unconsciously tapping against his knee. Tap. Tap. Tap. The rhythm was slow but steady. This was his way of forcing himself to calm down. With each tap, he mentally reviewed the current situation: First, the Mysterious Profound True Person's scheme had partially failed, but had left behind an even more troublesome hidden danger—the restriction within Shi Meng's body had been exposed and was now in an extremely unstable state. This person had saved his life, but could also become the blade that killed him the next time the restriction was activated. Second, he owed Shi Meng a life. This realization was like a thorn stuck in his throat. He never liked owing favors, especially life-and-death ones. But now he did, and he didn't know how to repay it—should he show mercy the next time they met? Or find a way to break the restriction? Third, they were still deep within the Black Iron Ant Mound, with their spiritual power depleted, Shi Meng severely injured, and worker ants possibly in pursuit. The probability of surviving was pitifully low. The tapping stopped. Lin Yi opened his eyes, seeing nothing in the dark. But he could feel the temperature of Shi Meng's body, smell the metallic stench of blood mixed with slime, and hear those scraping sounds growing ever closer. He reached into his chest pocket. Besides the Heart-Protecting Jade Pendant, there were other things—the old copper coin Su Wanqing had given him, the wooden talisman for peace Shi Meng had given him. Three items pressed against his chest, each with a different temperature: the jade pendant was warm and smooth, the coin was cold, the talisman rough. All were "insurances" given by others. All were favors he originally didn't want to owe but had to. Lin Yi took a deep breath, pushed off the inner wall, and stood up again. His legs were still trembling, but he didn't stop. He once again draped Shi Meng's right arm over his shoulder, mustering every ounce of strength in his body, and dragged this heavy form, continuing to inch deeper into the darkness. Each step felt like wading through a mire. He didn't know what lay ahead, didn't know if he could find a way out, didn't even know if Shi Meng could hold on until then. But he had to keep moving. Because stopping meant death. Because the Mysterious Profound True Person might have other moves in reserve—the Blood-Burning Talisman was just the overt card; a hidden one might already be on its way. Because Shi Meng's warning before losing consciousness, "Stay away from me," was like a knife pressed against his back, not knowing when it might pull its own trigger. Darkness swallowed their figures. Only the sound of dripping blood echoed in the silent ant tunnel. Plip. Plop. Like a countdown of some kind.