It felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been thrust through his chest. Lin Yi’s eyes snapped open. His vision was filled with darkness and a few seconds of snowy static. He gasped for breath, each inhalation carrying a tearing sensation. What surged up his throat wasn’t blood, but something thicker, more scalding. He instinctively reached for his chest—his fingertips touched not skin. It was a pattern. A pattern of dark red, slightly raised, writhing slowly like a living thing. Starting from his shoulder, like some vicious vine, it had already crawled past his collarbone and was spreading upward towards the center of his chest. The moment his fingertip pressed against it, a faint crackling sound came from beneath his skin, as if tiny blood vessels were bursting. A searing heat burned along the pattern, deep into his bones. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to circulate his spiritual power to suppress it. His left arm suddenly spasmed violently. The entire limb convulsed uncontrollably, his five fingers digging desperately into the gravel beneath him. The pattern abruptly flared, dark red turning into a blinding crimson, like burning charcoal. The murky air in the cellar began to distort, wisps of thin spiritual energy being forcibly dragged toward his chest—an uncontrolled, greedy suction. “Ugh…” He clenched his teeth, forcing the cry of pain back down his throat. His vision finally cleared a little. This was a half-collapsed cellar. Above him were crisscrossed, broken wooden beams and compacted earth and stone. The air was mixed with the smell of mildew, sulfur, and a faint, rusty metallic scent emanating from his own body. A sliver of light seeped in from an angle ahead—not daylight, but a kind of flickering, orange-yellow light. Firelight. And footsteps. The crunch of leather boots on gravel, approaching from a distance, regular to the point of making one’s scalp prickle. More than one pair. At least three, maybe more. The footsteps stopped not far away, and the sound of lowered voices drifted in, fragmented. “…blood trail…” “…not dried yet…” “…search carefully…” Lin Yi’s heart felt gripped by an icy hand. He forced himself to turn his neck, looking toward the direction the light was coming from—the cellar’s only exit, half-blocked by vines and rubble. A slender silhouette was pressed against the gap, motionless. Su Wanqing. She was turned sideways, her ear pressed tightly against the vine-covered crack, her whole body taut like a fully drawn bow. The firelight from outside filtered in, casting flickering shadows on her face, illuminating the fine beads of sweat on her temple and those eyes fixed intently on the outside world. Fear. But not just fear. There was something harder, suppressed in the depths of her gaze. Lin Yi opened his mouth. His throat was as dry as sandpaper rubbing. “Wanqing?” His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. Su Wanqing whipped her head around. Seeing his eyes open, a flicker of relief flashed across her face, immediately replaced by deeper anxiety. She almost crawled over to his side, her movements so light they made no sound. Her fingers touched his wrist. They were ice-cold. “Don’t make a sound,” she whispered into his ear, her breath hot and hurried against his skin. “Outside… at least three. Well-trained. Searching this ruin.” As she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on the crimson pattern on his chest. Her pupils contracted. But she forcibly suppressed something, her words quick and low. “The exit is being watched. They… are checking every place someone could hide. Time…” She paused, her voice growing even hoarser. “…maybe less than half an incense stick’s worth.” Lin Yi closed his eyes briefly. An intense pain exploded from his left chest all the way to the back of his head. The pattern writhed. He could feel the things beneath his skin growing, gnawing at his flesh and blood, trying to connect to something—something deeper, in the darkness of the cellar’s depths, a chaotic, violent fluctuation. Spiritual energy fluctuation. An abandoned spiritual vein. Mo Chen’s voice flashed through his memory: “Under the Ruined Wastes… littered with remnants of small spiritual veins… extremely unstable… like powder kegs buried underground…” His eyes snapped open. His gaze shot toward the depths of the cellar. It was darker there than near the entrance, the air even murkier, the sulfur smell thick enough to choke. But within that pitch blackness, extremely faint, bluish-white phosphorescent light flickered, like the breathing of a dying creature. Each flicker was accompanied by a chaotic fluctuation of spiritual energy, like ripples on water about to shatter. A desperate plan instantly "Detonate it." Lin Yi continued, each word seeming to be squeezed from between his teeth. "Create chaos... escape in the confusion." The cellar fell deathly silent for a moment. Only the faint, increasingly close footsteps from outside remained. Su Wanqing's face was as pale as paper. She opened her mouth, her voice trembling. "Detonate... the spirit vein? Are you insane? That would—" "Collapse." Lin Yi cut her off, his gaze locked onto her eyes. "It might also... explode prematurely. More likely..." He paused, his left arm twitching uncontrollably. "...it will make me lose control completely." He raised his right hand and pointed at the crimson patch on his chest. "This thing... gets hungry near spirit veins." Su Wanqing's breath hitched. She looked at the markings, watching them writhe beneath his skin like living things. She looked at the cold sweat constantly rolling down Lin Yi's temples, at the nearly ruthless resolve in the depths of his eyes. The firelight flickered outside, and the shadows on the cellar walls swayed with it, like some kind of countdown. Time was ticking away. From outside came the sound of kicked gravel. Close. Then a hushed male voice, this time clear enough to chill the spine: "There's blood here, still wet. Search carefully—" The voice paused. "—might be hiding below." The firelight flared violently. Orange-yellow light sliced through the gaps in the vines like a blade, cutting into the cellar's darkness, casting swaying, monstrous shadows on the inner walls. Su Wanqing's body froze. Lin Yi looked at her, his voice lowered to the minimum, yet carrying undeniable weight. "No time left. Your choice—gamble, or wait to die." He paused, adding one more sentence. "And drag you down with me." Su Wanqing closed her eyes. For only a single breath. When she opened them again, all the fear in her eyes had been crushed by something harder. She gave a firm nod, not uttering a word, but the resolve in her gaze was like steel tempered in fire. "What's the division of labor?" she asked, her voice already steady. Lin Yi quickly scanned the cellar's structure. "Inside the entrance, scatter the medicinal powder that disrupts scent—you have it." He remembered the contents of the small pouch she always carried. "Set a simple trap, just gravel, connect it with thin string, for early warning." Su Wanqing nodded, her hand already reaching for the small pouch at her waist. "Then retreat to there." Lin Yi pointed to a corner of the cellar—a recess in the rock wall, supported by a thick wooden beam overhead. "The sturdiest corner. You must retreat inside before detonation." "And you?" Lin Yi looked towards the depths of the darkness, towards the direction of the flickering phosphorescence. "I'll go light the fuse." After saying this, his right hand reached towards his waist—where a tattered cloth bag hung. He untied the cord, pulled something out from inside, and pressed it into Su Wanqing's hand. It was a jade pendant. Crude in texture, its edges badly worn, but on the front was carved an extremely simple, almost indiscernible pattern—a most basic protective array, perhaps only capable of blocking one impact from falling debris. "Take it." Lin Yi's voice held no emotion. "If it collapses... protect your head." Su Wanqing's fingers tightened, the pendant digging into her palm. She looked at him, her lips moving slightly as if she wanted to say something. But Lin Yi had already averted his gaze. He took a deep breath of the thick, sulfur-laden air, braced his hands on the ground, and began crawling towards the cellar's depths. His movements were arduous, as if dragging a thousand-pound burden. With each shift, the markings on his left arm flared brighter, the crimson light even illuminating a small patch of moss-covered, slippery rock ahead. Su Wanqing stood where she was, watching his back for two seconds. Then she turned and moved silently towards the entrance. She took a paper packet from her waist pouch, tore it open, and evenly scattered the grayish-white medicinal powder on the ground just inside the entrance. The powder drifted, carrying a faint scent of bitter herbs mixed with pungency. She then selected several suitably sized stones from the gravel pile, bound them together with an extremely fine, nearly transparent silk thread, and tied the other end of the thread to a crooked wooden stake at the entrance. Trap set. She took one last look at the swaying firelight outside, at those increasingly close, blurred figures. Then she retreated, pressing against the rock wall, moving silently towards that corner. Only two sounds remained in the cellar. The faint, chillingly painful rasp of Lin Yi crawling, his wounded body dragging against the rough, wet The air grew thick, carrying a putrid sweetness tinged with the scent of blood. It was the unique odor of a decayed spirit vein—a product of festering spiritual energy fermenting with underground minerals. He lifted his eyes. Three zhang ahead, a vicious crack had split open on the rock wall. Inside the fissure, phosphorescent light writhed. It wasn’t uniform light, but countless tiny points of light struggling, colliding, and extinguishing in the darkness. Those dim currents of spiritual energy were like dying snakes, coiling and convulsing, occasionally bursting with blinding sparks. The entire fissure resembled a mouth constantly opening and closing, each breath exhaling suffocating waves of chaotic fluctuations. Lin Yi stopped crawling, gasping for air. His left hand began to tremble uncontrollably. It wasn’t fatigue, but hunger—the parasitic force residing in his arm had caught the scent of the spirit vein. The patterns seemed to come alive, the dark red veins spreading from his elbow toward his shoulder beginning to swell and pulse. He could feel something wriggling beneath his skin, tiny, sharp, like countless insects gnawing inside his blood vessels. Then it began to draw in reverse. It wasn’t his conscious guidance. The force spontaneously, greedily extended its tendrils. The chaotic spiritual energy in the air was tugged, forming weak currents that surged toward his left arm. Each influx felt like pouring scalding grit into a wound. “Ugh…” He pressed his forehead against the ground, cold sweat dripping down, mixing with dirt. Can’t stop. He pushed himself up, braced his right elbow against the ground, and continued to inch forward. Every inch closer intensified the burning sensation in his left arm. The patterns had already spread below his collarbone. He could feel those veins expanding beneath his skin, burrowing into his chest cavity like tree roots. His heart was beating fast. Too fast. So fast it didn’t feel like his own heartbeat, but something parasitic inside his chest pounding like a drum. Two zhang from the fissure. One and a half zhang. He heard faint sounds from behind—Su Wanqing was moving. She should have finished setting up the warning traps and was retreating to the relatively sturdy corner. Her movements were light, but in this dead silence, every rustle of fabric was as clear as a knife scraping against his eardrums. Lin Yi closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the sulfur-tinged, turbid air. Then opened them. His left hand rose, hovering three inches above the fissure. The patterns instantly erupted with blinding red light! It wasn’t his doing. The chaotic spiritual energy of the spirit vein resonated with this alien force. The phosphorescent light within the fissure abruptly brightened. Those dying currents of spiritual energy, like startled snakes, began to thrash wildly. The air started to tremble, emitting a low, droning hum. Lin Yi’s teeth pierced his tongue tip. The taste of blood exploded in his mouth, the pain keeping him clinging to his last shred of consciousness. He forced himself to focus his will, carefully “hooking” that greedy, all-consuming force toward the depths of the fissure. Not absorption. Provocation. Like poking a pus-filled abscess packed with gunpowder using a red-hot needle. His left hand began to tremble violently. The wriggling beneath his skin grew frenzied. The dark red patterns, like living vines, climbed from his shoulder toward his neck. He could feel those veins expanding, tearing muscle, burrowing into bone. What rose in his throat wasn’t blood. It was something thicker, more scalding. He swallowed it down and continued. The hum from the fissure began to rise in pitch. From a low vibration to a sharp, screeching keen. The phosphorescent light flashed madly. Those chaotic currents of spiritual energy began to collide, annihilate, and reform. Each collision burst with blinding sparks, illuminating deeper into the fissure—a darker, interlaced network of spirit veins resembling blood vessels. Lin Yi’s left eye began to blur. The edges of his vision tinged with crimson. Not an illusion—real blood was seeping from the corner of his eye. He could feel his eyeball swelling under pressure, his optic nerve being squeezed and entangled by the spreading patterns. Just a little more. Just a little— *Crash!* A clear sound of falling rubble came from the entrance! Followed immediately by Su Wanqing’s suppressed, trembling gasp: “They triggered it!” Outside, furious shouts immediately erupted: “Movement below!” “Break the door!” Footsteps pounded toward the cellar door like a torrential downpour. Not a tentative search, but a clear, murderous charge. The wooden door groaned under the strain. Rubble and dust cascaded down from the edges of the frame. Lin Yi’s heart stopped for He stopped trying to control it precisely, no longer suppressing that greedy power. He released all restraints, pushing all the remaining controllable spiritual power within him—those remnants belonging to the person "Lin Yi"—together with the restless, alien force of the "Plunder Mark" in his left arm, all at once, into it. Not guiding. But pouring. Like pouring molten iron into a powder keg about to explode. The light within the crack suddenly froze. Time seemed to pause for an instant. Then— "BOOM!!!!!" It wasn't the sound that came first. It was the light. A blinding, pure white light erupted from the crack, like a sun being born underground. Lin Yi's retinas were instantly scorched, his vision filled with nothing but boundless white. Then came the sound—a deafening roar, not entering through his ears, but exploding from within his bones, his organs, every single cell of his body. The shockwave hit him like a wall, slamming hard against his back. Lin Yi heard the crisp sound of his ribs breaking. Before the pain could spread, his body was already flung through the air. He twisted in mid-air, using the last bit of strength to adjust his direction, lunging toward the corner where Su Wanqing was in his memory. His vision was a blur. But he saw that figure curled up against the rock wall. "Wanqing—!" He roared, his voice swallowed by the explosion's thunder. He lunged. Covering her with his body. Almost simultaneously, the spiritual vein node behind him erupted completely. White light devoured everything. Then came an even more violent spiritual energy storm. Like a breached flood, an erupting volcano, like a ferocious beast imprisoned for a thousand years breaking its chains. The raging spiritual energy currents sliced through the air like solid blades, tearing through rock, collapsing all structures. The depths of the cellar completely collapsed. The rock walls were torn apart like paper. The cellar door was blown away, and the pursuing soldiers nearby didn't even have time to scream before they were swallowed by the white light and shockwave. Rubble fell like a torrential rain, larger rocks collapsing from overhead. Lin Yi desperately shielded the person beneath him. A massive boulder slammed onto his left shoulder. He heard the muffled sound of bones shattering. Pain shot through his entire body like lightning, but even more terrifying was his left arm—the dark red patterns, under the explosion's impact, spread wildly like a wildfire doused in oil! From shoulder to neck. From neck crawling toward the right side of his chest. The squirming sensation beneath his skin turned violent, as if countless snakes were burrowing, biting, expanding within his flesh and blood. He could feel those tendrils crawling toward his heart, drilling into his lungs, seeping into every blood vessel. Out of control. Completely out of control. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but what came out wasn't sound. It was a mouthful of dark red, phosphorescent blood. The blood dripped onto Su Wanqing's pale face, like a red-hot branding iron, making her whole body shudder. Then darkness fell. Not unconsciousness, but the collapsing rubble completely burying this corner. Boulders, broken rocks, dirt, sealing them inside like a tomb. The last trace of light vanished, leaving only absolute darkness, and the continuous, rumbling roar of rock grinding and collapsing in his ears. He didn't know how long it lasted. Maybe a long time, maybe just an instant. The rumbling gradually subsided. Replaced by distant, muffled cries of alarm and chaotic sounds. And even farther away—the aftershocks of the explosion were still spreading; he could feel the ground continuously trembling, the rock layers farther away collapsing in a chain reaction. But nearby, dead silence. Only the air seeping through the gaps in the rubble, thick with dust. And beneath him, Su Wanqing's suppressed, faint gasps. Lin Yi tried to move, but his body felt as if it had been crushed. His left shoulder was completely numb; the patterns on his left arm were still burning, those dark red tendrils now covering his entire chest, spreading toward the right side. He could feel something pulsing beneath his skin, synchronized with his heartbeat, but heavier, more violent. Like another heart. He clenched his teeth, using his still-mobile right hand to grope for support on the ground. Rubble clattered and slid. "Don't move…" Su Wanqing's voice sounded in the darkness, hoarse and unlike her own, "Your back… it's covered in rocks…" Lin Yi stopped moving. He felt the weight on his back. Not one rock, but several, piled up, pressing down until his spine groaned under the strain. But even more terrifying was his left arm—the patterns emitted a faint red glow in the darkness, like red-hot coals, illuminating the dust swirling in the narrow “Pursuers…” she panted, “outside… it’s gone quiet.” Lin Yi tilted his head to listen. Indeed. All those hurried footsteps, those shouts from moments ago had vanished. Only the faint sounds of distant collapse remained, and further away—perhaps new disturbances drawn by the explosion. But nearby, only dead silence. And the thick, choking dust and scent of blood hanging in the air. “For now… we’re safe.” He forced the words out, each syllable flecked with bloody froth. Su Wanqing didn’t speak. She was just staring at the glowing patterns on his chest. They were still writhing, like living things, slowly, relentlessly spreading beneath his skin. Crawling from left to right, creeping from his chest toward his abdomen. Under the red glow, the outlines of those veins were terrifyingly clear—not simple tattoos, but something deeper, rooting into his flesh and blood like tree roots, even revealing fine, pulsing branches. She reached out. Her fingers were ice-cold, trembling, hovering an inch above his chest. She didn’t touch. Just hovered. “It…” her voice was hoarser, “won’t stop?” Lin Yi closed his eyes. “It won’t stop.” He heard himself say it. His voice was frighteningly calm, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with him. “Detonating the spirit vein… stimulated it. It’s… hungry now.” Su Wanqing’s fingers froze mid-air. Then slowly lowered, not to touch those patterns, but to grasp his still-mobile right hand. Her fingers were icy, but her grip was tight, so tight her nails dug into the skin of his hand. “What do we do?” Lin Yi opened his eyes. In the interplay of darkness and red light, he looked into her eyes. “Wait.” “Wait for what?” “Wait for it… to be full.” He tugged at the corner of his mouth, trying to smile, but failed. “Or for me… to be devoured by it.” Beyond the crevice of rubble, new sounds came from the distance. Not pursuers. But more orderly, heavier footsteps. And faint, authoritative commands cutting through the chaotic aftermath of the explosion. “Search!” “Find them alive or dead!” “The spirit vein explosion is suspicious—dig three feet into the ground if you must!” The voices were unfamiliar. But that tone, that air of unquestionable authority— Lin Yi’s pupils abruptly contracted. Not Xiao Han’s people. It was the Xuan Yin Zhenren. He had come personally. Su Wanqing clearly recognized it too. Her fingers clenched violently, nails sinking deep into the back of his hand. Her breath hitched for an instant, as if doused by invisible ice water. In the darkness, the two stared at each other. The red light was still spreading. Outside, the footsteps were drawing closer. The patterns on Lin Yi’s left arm emitted a scorching red glow in the dark, like a segment of red-hot branding iron. The pain had blurred. All that remained was a cold, machine-like sense of operation. He bit the tip of his tongue, using fresh pain to maintain clarity. The taste of tongue-tip blood mixed with the sulfurous air, creating a bizarre flavor of rust and bitter almonds in his mouth. His left hand hovered above the spirit vein fissure, fingers splayed, trembling slightly. The dim, chaotic streams of spiritual energy within the fissure now writhed like disturbed snakes, twisting madly. They were no longer in a dying state, but had been “lured” into a final frenzy by some force. The phosphorescence grew blinding; the concentration of sulfur in the air was so high each breath felt like swallowing fire. Worse was the “Thieving Power” within him. It was hungry. What came from the patterns on his left arm wasn’t pain, but a greedy, cold suction. It was like a hungry mouth, uncontrollably, spontaneously beginning to suck in the violent, impure spiritual energy from the fissure. The impure energy flooded into his body like countless red-hot iron rods, boring upward along the veins of his left arm, ruthlessly chiseling into his chest. His heart was seized. Lin Yi’s vision went black for an instant. He heard a short, crushed grunt escape his throat. Beneath his skin, those dark red patterns writhed and swelled like living things, continuing to spread upward from his chest, crawling over his collarbone, climbing up the side of his neck. He could feel the slight tearing sensation of his skin being stretched, and the illusion—perhaps not an illusion—of irregular throbbing and bursting blood vessels beneath the patterns. The “connection” was complete. But the greed of the “Thieving Power” had turned the tables. It didn’t just want to detonate the spirit The other end of the "fuse" was the increasingly violent, increasingly unstable spiritual energy core deep within the spirit vein. It began to make sound. At first, a low hum, as if massive gears deep underground were forcing themselves to turn through rust. Then, the hum rose in pitch, becoming a sharp, grating hiss that set teeth on edge. The air began to tremble. Fine bits of rubble fell from the cellar ceiling, striking his shoulders and back. The light from the patterns on his left arm flickered erratically, forming an eerie resonance with the wildly flashing phosphorescent glow from the fissure. Time stretched like pulled sugar, each moment clear and interminable. And then— From the direction of the entrance came a clear, crisp *crunch*! The sound of rubble hitting the ground. Immediately followed by Su Wanqing's voice, pressed to an extreme low, trembling with shock: "They touched it!" Shouts erupted from outside, a man's voice, rough and urgent: "Movement down there!" Footsteps. Not the previous searching and pacing, but a clear, rapid, purposeful sprint. Leather boots stomped heavily on the ground's rubble, producing a dense, grinding crunch. Getting closer, louder. In that instant, Lin Yi's heart seemed to stop. Not from fear. From something colder—the absolute calm of a general on the battlefield seeing enemy cavalry charge into a breach in the formation, knowing victory or defeat would be decided within the next three breaths. Before him, the flashing frequency of the light from the spirit vein fissure had accelerated to the point of merging into a single blinding halo. The hiss had become a low roar. The rock at the fissure's edges began to crack, fine fragments pattering down. The air grew so hot it warped his vision. The critical point. Had arrived. No time for fine control. No time to weigh pros and cons. Not even time to think if Su Wanqing had retreated to a sufficiently safe corner. The last trace of "human" hesitation vanished from Lin Yi's eyes. Replaced by a resolve that bordered on cruelty. He no longer tried to restrain the greed of the "Thieving Power." Instead, he actively released the last shred of his suppression. Then, he gathered all the remaining spiritual energy within him that could still be called "controllable," mixed it with the completely berserk, devouring-craving alien power from his left arm, forming a chaotic, violent torrent— And shoved it all in! Not "connecting." Not "stimulating." "Infusing." "Detonating." In that instant, the patterns on his left arm erupted with an unprecedented, blazing red light, illuminating the bones of his entire arm and nearly half his torso, making them clearly visible. The blood vessels beneath his skin bulged, turning an ominous purplish-black. The patterns seemed like living magma, madly coursing and expanding under his skin, instantly flooding his neck, crawling up the line of his jaw. Agony, delayed by a split second, crashed over him like a tidal wave. But Lin Yi no longer cared. The moment he infused the power, he twisted his body violently, using every last ounce of his remaining strength to lunge toward the corner where he remembered Su Wanqing was! The movement tore at all his wounds; from the recently reset bone fracture at his left shoulder came a distinct, scalp-prickling sound of dislocation. He didn't care. As he lunged, he roared out, his voice completely distorted by agony and power overdraft, hoarse and broken, yet carrying an undeniable sharpness: "Wanqing! Get down!" His vision spun wildly. He saw Su Wanqing's blurry figure huddled in a recess in the corner rock wall, her face as pale as paper, her eyes wide open, fixed on the direction of his lunge. She had heard him. Her body was already instinctively dropping low. He also saw the direction of the cellar entrance—the concealing vines and rubble were violently thrown aside. A swaying torchlight stabbed in, illuminating the figure of a pursuer in dark-colored close-fitting clothes, just bending to charge inside. The man's face was half-lit, half-shadowed by the firelight, his gaze fierce, a drawn short blade in his hand. And then— Light. All-consuming white light erupted from behind him. Not gradually brightening, but exploding instantaneously. As if a miniature sun had been hidden deep in the cellar, now rudely awakened and torn apart. Everything in his vision—Su Wanqing's terrified face, the pursuer's figure, the damp cold rock walls, the dust floating in the air—was all erased by this absolute whiteness. Sound followed close behind. Not a single *boom* of an explosion, but an overlay and tearing apart of countless sounds. First, the ear-shattering shriek as the spirit vein core was utterly ignited, its spiritual energy wildly rampaging against the eardrums. Against the body. Lin Yi was still mid-air when he felt an indescribable, immense force slam into his back. It wasn't wind; it was a solid wall, composed of spiritual energy and shattered rock. He heard the brittle crack of his own ribs breaking, the muffled sound of his internal organs being crushed and displaced. A metallic sweetness flooded his throat, and blood mixed with fragments of viscera sprayed out, tracing a brief, dark-red arc through the blinding white light. The force accelerated him, hurling him like a ragged cloth toward the corner where Su Wanqing was. At the last possible moment, he twisted his body with great effort, turning his battered back toward the direction of the shockwave. Then he spread his arms, shielding Su Wanqing's tightly curled form as much as possible within the narrow triangular space formed by his own body and the rock wall. Almost simultaneously. The blast wave and debris arrived. *BOOM—!!!* His body slammed heavily into the rock wall. Lin Yi's vision went completely dark. All sound instantly receded, the world plunging into an eerie, ringing silence. Only the fiery, searing agony in his chest and the pervasive, dull pounding sensation proved he was still alive. Debris rained down like a torrential storm. Large, small, sharp, angular pieces. They pounded his back, his legs, his arms and the neck he used to shield Su Wanqing. Each impact carried heavy force, bringing fresh bruises and bone fractures. Dust billowed up in thick clouds, choking and acrid, scraping like gravel in his lungs as he inhaled. The cellar groaned and collapsed. From above came the teeth-grating sound of rock tearing, followed by the deafening roar of even larger stones crashing down. The ground shook violently, as if the entire strata of the Nether Abyss had been loosened by this explosion. Light was completely cut off by the collapsing rock and dense smoke. Darkness returned, but this time it was a dark filled with the aura of death, hot and suffocating. The chaotic cacophony lasted for a dozen breaths before gradually subsiding. No, not subsiding—it shifted into more distant, mufflered sounds of chain collapses, and some faint, buried cries and shouts of alarm—belonging to the pursuers. Inside the cellar, only the occasional rustle of shifting debris remained, and… Close at hand, a suppressed, agonized, shallow panting. It was Su Wanqing. Lin Yi was still on top of her, his body and arms forming a fragile shelter. He tried to move, but as soon as he lifted his arm, a sensation of utterly uncontrolled, frantic wriggling surged through his left arm. No, not just his left arm. The side of his neck, the edge of his cheek, even his right shoulder… everywhere the markings had spread, beneath his skin came a distinct, crawling sensation as if something foreign was burrowing. The markings were no longer just hot; they were swelling, drilling deeper into his skin, into his muscles, even toward his bones. A cold, alien "hunger" and "urge to destroy" seeped along these markings, thread by thread, eroding his consciousness. Flickering, distorted hallucinations of light and shadow began to dance before his eyes. In his ears, beyond the ringing, incomprehensible, mad whispers and murmurs began to surface. The edge of losing control. No, he had already stepped one foot over it. "Lin… Yi?" A trembling voice came from beneath him, faint as a wisp of air, interspersed with dust-choked coughs. "Are… are you alright?" Lin Yi opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but only a series of hoarse, air-leaking sounds came out. He coughed, and more bloody froth welled up. He forced himself to shift slightly, trying to lessen the weight pressing down on her. This movement tugged at who-knows-how-many wounds, sending a fresh wave of darkness across his vision. Most of the cellar had collapsed. The original entrance was now completely blocked by massive boulders and earth. Only the faintest trickle of air, tainted with the smell of smoke and dust, seeped in through the cracks between stones. They were trapped in a narrower, sturdier, yet even more hopeless stone coffin. Temporarily safe. From the pursuers' blades. But at a cost. Lin Yi could feel his body's breakdown was imminent. Not from his injuries, but from that "alien transformation." The markings, having devoured the chaotic spiritual energy dispersed by the explosion, had grown even more active, even more… hungry. It wanted more. And his body and consciousness were being assimilated by this hunger. Su Wanqing slowly wriggled out from under him, her movements cautious, accompanied by pained intakes of breath. She groped in the darkness "We can get out." Su Wanqing's tone was unusually firm. She seemed to shake her head in the darkness. "The explosion... collapsed the entrance, but it might have loosened other areas. And, Master Mochen, or Shi Meng... if they sensed such a big commotion, they would definitely come looking." She paused, her fingers gently pressing against the scorching skin on the side of his neck. Her voice lowered, carrying a gentle command that brooked no argument: "Until then, you have to hold on. Lin Yi, do you hear me? You have to hold on." Lin Yi did not answer. In the thick darkness and the increasingly clear, mad ramblings, he struggled to maintain the last shred of clarity. Hold on? Hold on with what? His body felt like a torn sack that had been smashed apart and then forcibly pieced back together with dark arts, and inside it now lived a hungry, growing monster. With every breath, he felt that monster stretch lazily in his chest, licking his bones and organs. And outside... The explosion's commotion was too great. This was definitely not something the disappearance of a few low-level pursuers could cover up. The Mystic Yin Elder? Xiao Han? Whichever side it was, the real hunters must have been alerted by now and were heading toward these ruins. They were trapped in this dark stone tomb. He was becoming the first part of the tomb to rot. Su Wanqing's hand still rested against his neck. That touch of coolness was the only anchor point in this burning hell. And also... the greatest burden. Slowly, he raised his right hand, which he could still barely control, and fumbled in the darkness until he found Su Wanqing's wrist, the one pressed against his neck. Her wrist was slender, her skin cold, and he could feel her pulse beating rapidly and faintly. He exerted force, pulling her hand away from the disgusting pattern on his neck. Then, with all his strength, he pressed her hand against his own waist—where he kept a short dagger he always carried, originally for self-defense. The cold metal sheath pressed against her palm. Su Wanqing's body froze. In the darkness, Lin Yi couldn't see her expression, but he could feel her breath catch instantly and the violent trembling that came through her wrist. He spoke, his voice hoarse yet unnervingly clear, each word seeming to be scraped out with broken glass: "If... I stop being myself." "If these patterns... crawl to my eyes." "If I start... wanting to bite you."