The light gate resembled a crumpled piece of cloth. Lin Yi tumbled out. His left foot hit the ground first, sinking into a patch of cold, wet mud. A chill crept up his ankle. He swayed, then steadied himself. His vision hadn’t fully cleared yet—afterimages from the trial space still clung to his retinas, flickering golden runes and the black smoke of a dissipating inner demon. He took a breath. The crisp air carried the scent of earth, and… a metallic tang. No. The smell of blood. Then, that shivering sensation arrived. Not from the outside, but from within—from the deepest part of his soul, a place that had just been branded. A cold, heavy, *watched* fluctuation, like ink dripping into clear water, spread uncontrollably from within his body. Every hair on his body stood on end. Almost simultaneously— A sound of rending air. Sharp, ear-piercing. A chain entwined with golden runes shot out from the shadows to his right, aiming straight for his throat. The runes on the chain erupted with a blinding golden light in the dim illumination, like red-hot iron. Lin Yi threw himself backward. His movements were half a beat too slow. His body still held the lingering exhaustion from the trial, his muscles feeling like they were filled with lead. The chain whistled past the tip of his nose, the fierce wind it stirred lashing his cheek with a fiery sting. He saw that face. True Master Xuan Yin. Standing twenty paces away, his Daoist robes immaculate, the cuffs embroidered with cloud patterns of suppression runes. But that face—that face always so sanctimonious, brimming with judgment—was now twisted with a light bordering on rapture. His eyes were wide open, pupils reflecting Lin Yi, and also reflecting the faint gray mark that had just appeared between Lin Yi’s brows, visible only to high-level cultivators. "Found you!" True Master Xuan Yin's voice was like rolling thunder, exploding across the empty outskirts of the ruins. Each word was wrapped in spiritual power, vibrating painfully in Lin Yi’s eardrums. "Thief who steals from Heaven and defies Fate!" The chain twisted in mid-air, turning back to pounce again. This time, there were three of them, sealing off his upper, middle, and lower paths. The glow of the runes connected into a sheet, and a dense, cracking sound, like ice freezing, rang through the air. Lin Yi tried to move. His legs wouldn’t obey. The mental pressure from the soul mark weighed him down like a lead block, making his thoughts viscous. He saw further away—Mo Chen’s figure charging out from behind a pile of rubble, his gaunt face wearing a rare look of shock and fury. Shi Meng was on the other side, hefting a millstone-sized rock over his head, a low, beast-like growl rumbling in his throat. But they were too far away. The chains arrived. The closest one aimed straight for his heart. Lin Yi could even see the silver threads flowing across the runes, representing the rules of "confinement"—they writhed like living things, weaving an invisible net. The breath of death rushed towards his face. Then, his left arm ignited. Not with real flames. It was the dark golden patterns—spreading from his wrist to his shoulder, twining around his entire arm like vines—that suddenly became scalding hot. A strange "understanding" forced its way into his mind. He "saw." Not the chains, not the runes. It was that line—that silver line representing the rule of "confinement." It flowed at the center of the runes, as fine as a spider's silk, yet it supported the entire structure of the spell. *Grab it.* No time to think. Lin Yi roared, hurling his entire will—along with the pressure from the soul mark—into his left arm. He made a grasping motion towards the nearest chain. Not to grab the chain. To grab that line. "*Steal!*" Excruciating pain. It felt as if countless red-hot needles were piercing out from deep within the marrow of his left arm, driving all the way into his brain. Lin Yi’s vision went dark, and he nearly collapsed to his knees. But he felt it… he had grabbed it. That silver line had been forcibly "torn" out of the runes' operation. A silent tremor. Like a snapping lute string. The chain aimed at his heart instantly dimmed. The runes extinguished, the entwined golden patterns loosening like dead snakes. The chain slid powerlessly past Lin Yi’s ribs, clattering into the mud. The other two chains were smashed aside in mid-air by Lin Yi knelt on one knee, the intense pain in his left arm still throbbing. He gasped for breath, sweat from his forehead mixing with mud as it dripped down. At the edge of his vision, Mo Chen had already rushed to a position three steps in front of him, his gaunt body standing like a wall between him and Master Xuan Yin. Shi Meng also moved closer, the cloth wrapped around his left arm now soaked through with blood, but in his right hand, he had dug up another rock, his knuckles white. “Master…” Lin Yi tried to speak, but his throat was filled with the taste of blood. Mo Chen did not turn around. The old man merely raised his right hand, making a “stop” gesture. His left hand hung at his side, his fingertips gathering faint traces of spiritual energy—not for an attack, but for drawing something on the ground. He moved with extreme speed; Lin Yi could only make out a few twisted symbols. Master Xuan Yin laughed. The laughter was soft, yet it pierced like an ice spike. “Mo Chen,” he said, his tone returning to that calm, judicial quality. “Do you really think you can stop me?” He took a step forward. His Daoist robe billowed without wind. The oppressive aura of spiritual energy in the air suddenly intensified, like a mountain slowly toppling over. Lin Yi felt a tightness in his chest, his breathing becoming labored. The cold sensation of the soul mark grew heavier, as if a pair of eyes were gazing down upon them from a place extremely high and distant, recording everything. Mo Chen finished drawing the last symbol. The ground glowed faintly. A pale gray barrier rippled outward from the center of the symbols like water waves, enveloping the area within five steps around the three of them. The barrier was thin, nearly transparent, but when Master Xuan Yin’s invisible pressure struck it, it dissipated like cotton, vanishing without a trace. “Heaven’s Mechanism Severance,” Master Xuan Yin raised an eyebrow, a trace of surprise in his tone. “You even taught him this?” Mo Chen remained silent. He merely tilted his head slightly, glancing at Lin Yi from the corner of his eye. His gaze was complex—there was concern, a warning, and a hint of something Lin Yi couldn’t quite understand… weariness? Shi Meng spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. “Bull-nosed priest,” he rasped hoarsely. “If you want to fight, then fight. Too much damn talk.” Master Xuan Yin ignored him. His gaze fell upon Lin Yi, as if examining a rare treasure, yet also as if scrutinizing a filth that must be destroyed. “Fate-Defier,” he slowly began, each word sounding like a verdict being pronounced. “You have stolen the authority of Heaven’s Dao, disrupting the established order. Your very existence is a blasphemy against ‘balance.’” Lin Yi pushed himself up from his knees, slowly rising. The pain in his left arm remained, but it had transformed into a constant, searing numbness. He stared at Master Xuan Yin, deliberately slowing his speech. “So what?” His voice was hoarse, but steady. “So,” Master Xuan Yin raised his right hand, palm facing upward. A ball of pure white lightning began to gather, crackling and illuminating every cold line on his face, “you must be eradicated.” The lightning exploded. Not just one bolt, but seven—arranged in the shape of the Big Dipper, tearing through the air as they crashed down toward the gray barrier. Each bolt of lightning was entwined with intricate silver talismans, lines of the rules of “purification” and “annihilation.” The barrier trembled violently. Mo Chen’s body swayed slightly. He drew talismans with his left hand even faster, his fingertips bleeding, mixing into the soil. The barrier’s color deepened somewhat, but cracks were already beginning to appear at its edges. Shi Meng roared, hurling the rock in his hand toward Master Xuan Yin. The rock was shattered into dust mid-air by a bolt of lightning. “Not enough,” Master Xuan Yin said flatly. With his left hand, he formed a sword-finger and gently traced a line toward the weakest point of the barrier—the spot directly in front of Lin Yi. A blade of sword energy, refined to its utmost limit, silently shot out. No light, no sound. Only the faint, cloth-tearing hiss as the air was sliced. The sword energy pierced through the trembling barrier like a hot knife through butter, heading straight for the center of Lin Yi’s back. Lin Yi felt it. The shadow of death once again enveloped him. He wanted to dodge, but his body remained stiff from the lingering pain. In his field of vision, Mo Chen suddenly turned around— The old man’s body "Don't get distracted." Watching this scene, a change finally appeared on Xuan Yin Zhenren's face for the first time. Not anger, nor surprise. But... interest. "Using your body as a shield," he said softly, as if critiquing a performance. "Mo Chen, you value this 'seed' more than I imagined." He withdrew his right hand. The lightning dissipated. The oppressive aura slowly receded as well. But he didn't retreat; he merely stood there, his gaze shifting back and forth between Lin Yi and Mo Chen. "A pity," he said. "You can't protect him." In the distance, the forest suddenly erupted with the panicked flapping of startled birds. A large, dark mass of shadows rose into the air, scattering in all directions. Immediately afterward, several spiritual senses of varying intensities—some icy and probing, some filled with naked malice, some purely curious—swept over the battlefield like invisible tentacles from different directions. Lin Yi's spine went cold. That feeling... it was like being licked by a venomous snake. Xuan Yin Zhenren smiled. This time, it was a genuine smile. "Did you hear that?" He spread his arms wide, his voice suddenly rising, no longer directed only at the three of them but declaring to the entire ruins, to all those lurking in the shadows— "The Defier of Fate has appeared!" "Stealing the authority of the Heavenly Dao makes him the enemy of all under heaven!" "All righteous cultivators who see him must slay him!" Each word was wrapped in vast spiritual power, echoing through the mountains like a tolling bell. More birds took flight in alarm, and residual snow shook loose from the branches. He looked at Lin Yi, the fanaticism in his eyes flaring up once more, mingled with a sense of mission that bordered on the sacred. "The message is out." "The great battle—" "—begins now." As the last word fell, a long, mournful horn call sounded from afar. It wasn't from Xuan Yin Zhenren's side. It came from deeper within the forest, carrying an ancient, primal aura. Shi Meng's face paled. "Damn it..." he muttered. "There are others?" Mo Chen finally turned his head and looked at Lin Yi. That gaze held nothing—no blame, no fear, not even pain. Only a bottomless calm. Then, he lifted his blood-stained finger and traced a few more characters in the air: 「Go.」 「Now.」 Lin Yi looked at those two words. Then he looked at the wound on Mo Chen's shoulder, still seeping blood. He looked at Shi Meng's arm, soaked through with blood. He looked behind Xuan Yin Zhenren—there, several figures wearing the robes of different sects were slowly emerging from the shadows of the forest. Some held swords, some formed hand seals, some merely watched coldly. From all directions. He took a deep breath. The smell of earth, the smell of blood, and that cold, oppressive sensation from the soul mark all mixed together, filling his lungs. He shook his head. "I'm not leaving." His voice was hoarse, but each word fell like a stone slammed into mud. Mo Chen's brow furrowed slightly. Lin Yi didn't wait for him to write more. He took a step forward, standing beside Mo Chen, shoulder to shoulder. Then he glanced sideways at Shi Meng. "Brother Shi." Shi Meng grinned, revealing teeth stained red with blood. "Should've said that sooner." Lin Yi turned back, facing Xuan Yin Zhenren, facing the figures now closing in. The dark golden pattern on his left arm began to heat up again, a familiar, tearing agony starting to build. But he didn't retreat. "Master," he said in a low voice, the words meant for Mo Chen, but his eyes remained fixed ahead. "I've dragged you into this." A pause. Then— "But this fight that started because of me..." He raised his left hand. His fingers spread, aimed at the nearest figure—a young cultivator in Qingyun Sect robes, holding a stack of talismans, his eyes filled with eager killing intent. The dark golden pattern suddenly blazed with light. "I'll fight it." Mo Chen's body swayed slightly. Lin Yi steadied him, his fingers touching warm blood. The blood was still seeping out, soaking through the bluish-gray fabric, hanging heavy and dripping. He tore a strip from his inner garment, his hands trembling so badly the edges of the cloth were ragged. Mo Chen pressed down on his hand. That hand was ice-cold, stained with blood, but the strength was still there. Mo Chen shook his head, his gaze sweeping over Lin Yi's left arm—the dark golden pattern crawled out from his sleeve like the tendrils of some living creature, pulsing faintly beneath the skin. Then "The rules themselves." Mo Chen pressed a hand to his own shoulder, blood oozing from between his fingers, but his expression remained placid. "By stealing authority, you tore open a breach in the order. That breach must be repaired, or... marked as an 'error' to be purged." The characters dissolved, then coalesced into new ones. "From this moment on, calamity follows you, nowhere to hide." The sound of the wind abruptly ceased. No—not ceased. All sound was suppressed. Patriarch Xuan Yin's voice rolled like thunder across the entire ruin, infused with spiritual pressure that made eardrums throb. "The fate-defier has appeared, stealing the authority of Heaven's Way! He is the common enemy of all under heaven!" Lin Yi's head snapped up. Patriarch Xuan Yin stood thirty paces away, his Daoist robe billowing though there was no wind. He had been forced back several steps by Lin Yi's earlier act of "theft" and was now regulating his breathing, but the fanaticism in his voice had not diminished in the slightest. His hands formed a seal, and a pale golden light column shot up from his palms into the sky, exploding high above into countless fine motes of light that drifted in all directions. "All righteous cultivators who see him must slay him!" The light points scattered like dandelion seeds, flying farther and farther away. "The message is out." Patriarch Xuan Yin lowered his hands, a cold arc twisting the corner of his mouth. "The great battle begins." Shi Meng spat a mouthful of bloody saliva. "Damn it... a message talisman?" "Wide-area spiritual missive." Mo Chen formed more characters, even fainter this time. "Within a three-hundred-li radius, all sect sentinels, rogue cultivator outposts, intelligence networks... will receive it." Lin Yi's fingertips unconsciously tapped against his own thigh. Once. Twice. The rhythm was slow, as if counting heartbeats. He looked into the distance—beyond the ruins stretched rolling barren hills, withered trees like black bones jutting against the pale gray sky. Moments ago, it had been deathly silent. Now, something had awoken. To the east, a flock of birds startled into flight. To the west, faint spiritual fluctuations came, weak but probing, like a snake's tongue flicking across skin. North as well. South as well. From all directions. "They're watching," Lin Yi said, his voice flat. "Waiting for an opportunity." "Waiting for us to die." Shi Meng bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. "Or waiting for us to weaken each other, then come pick at the bones." Mo Chen's shoulders slumped another fraction. Blood dripped onto the ground, pooling into a small puddle. He looked at Lin Yi, his gaze so complex Lin Yi couldn't decipher it—worry, guilt, a kind of near-despairing exhaustion, but at the very core, a trace of... relief? As if a long-awaited verdict had finally been delivered. "The mark is on you. You will always be a target." Mo Chen swiftly formed characters, the writing hurried. "Go. Now. I can hold him for ten breaths." Lin Yi didn't move. He stared at the blood on Mo Chen's shoulder, at the cold spiritual senses sweeping toward them from all directions. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, the metallic tang of blood, and something more obscure—the undulations of the rules, rippling outward like waves on water. The patterns on his left arm began to burn again. This time it wasn't sharp pain, but a subtle, persistent scorching, as if embers were buried beneath his skin. He could *feel* those spiritual senses—not their precise locations, but the "pressure" they brought. Some were greedy, some cautious, some purely malicious peering. The deer hears the sound of breaking branches. More than one. "Master." Lin Yi spoke, his voice hoarse. "You said earlier, I was 'seen' by 'it'. What is 'it'?" Mo Chen was silent for two seconds. "The enforcement mechanism of Heaven's Way's will." He formed the words. "Devoid of emotion, devoid of good or evil. It only judges 'order' and 'error'. Once the mark is placed, you will be continuously tracked by it until the purge is complete, or..." The characters paused. "...or until you become strong enough to tear it apart in turn." Lin Yi laughed. A soft sound, like a sigh. He steadied Mo Chen, then turned, looking toward Patriarch Xuan Yin and toward the unseen watchers beyond. His back was straight, his left arm hanging at his side, the dark golden patterns flickering faintly beneath his sleeve. "Then I won't leave." Shi Meng was stunned. "What?" The spiritual pressure in the air was like thick glue, yet he inhaled with force, his lungs aching from the strain. “At least today, I have my master shielding me from the front, and a brother standing by my side.” His voice wasn’t loud, but each word struck the ground with weight. “This fight started because of me, so I’ll stand right here and fight it. If I can’t win, that’s fate. If I do win...” He didn’t finish. But Mo Chen understood. The old man’s trembling shoulders paused for an instant, then he gave an almost imperceptible nod. That nod held no praise, no encouragement—only a heavy, almost sorrowful acknowledgment. Shi Meng burst into loud laughter. “Should’ve been like this from the start!” He spat out the last mouthful of bloody froth, clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked loudly. “To hell with them! One damn priest, a bunch of rats hiding their heads and tails—even if I die today, I’ll knock out a few of their teeth!” Xuan Yin Zhenren’s face completely darkened. He stopped regulating his breath, brought his hands together, and the surrounding spiritual energy began to converge wildly. A low hum resonated through the air, like some colossal machine beginning to warm up. Golden light spilled from his body, transforming into countless intricate talismanic characters that interwove in the air, forming a massive net. “Stubborn fools.” His voice was icy. “Then I’ll let you… die with understanding.” The net began to contract. At the same time, the probing spiritual senses in the distance suddenly grew restless. The fluctuations to the east intensified sharply, the sound of fabric tearing through the air came from the west, and to the north, the glow of a magic artifact activating flickered briefly before vanishing. They couldn’t wait any longer. The burning sensation in Lin Yi’s left arm suddenly intensified. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the pain, his gaze sweeping the surroundings—Xuan Yin Zhenren’s golden net was pressing down, its edges already touching the ground, reducing the soil and rubble it passed over to silent ash. And further out, at least four or five different spiritual energy fluctuations were rapidly approaching. Some were sinister and cold, some violent and fierce, some carrying barely concealed greed. “Back to back.” Mo Chen formed the final three words. Lin Yi turned, and with Shi Meng on his left and right, they shielded Mo Chen in the middle. Their backs pressed together, they could feel each other’s frantic heartbeats, their warm body heat, and the wet, continuously seeping blood from Mo Chen’s shoulder. The golden net pressed down to ten zhang above their heads. The hum was so intense it made their scalps tingle. Xuan Yin Zhenren hovered in mid-air, his daoist robes flapping, his eyes looking at them as if they were already corpses. “Rebellious heretics, submit to execution—” “Submit your ancestors!” Shi Meng roared, punching the ground. Earth and stone exploded, a turbid, earthy-yellow wave of energy shot skyward, crashing hard against the golden net. The net didn’t budge, but its contraction slowed by half a beat. Just that half-beat. Lin Yi raised his left arm, fingers spread wide, aiming at the densest node of the golden net. He “saw” it. Not with his eyes—it was the strange perception brought by the patterns on his left arm. The golden net wasn’t physical; it was a weaving of rules. Each golden thread was an edict of “confinement” and “annihilation,” interwoven into an inescapable cage. But even the most perfect weaving has nodes. Nodes were where the lines of rules intersected, the points of greatest strength, and also… the most fragile. Because they bore the most edicts; once disturbed, the balance of the entire structure would collapse. Like the most precise gear in a machine. Jam it, and the whole machine stops. “Steal.” Lin Yi hissed the word. Deep in the marrow of his left arm, those countless fine needles pierced out simultaneously. Pain exploded, his vision darkened, but he clenched his fingers, fiercely grasping that intangible “thread of rule.” Not to break it—but to “steal” the “annihilation” edict it carried. The golden net suddenly trembled. The node Lin Yi had locked onto dimmed sharply, like a lightbulb losing power. Immediately after, centered on that node, the golden patterns began to twist, fracture, like ice cracking into a spiderweb of fissures. Xuan Yin Zhenren’s pupils contracted. “How is this possible—” The cracks spread. The entire golden net shook violently, its contraction coming to a complete halt. The golden threads at its edges began were two, wearing the robes of different sects—one in green, one in gray. They stood some distance apart, clearly not together, yet their target was the same—both their gazes locked onto Lin Yi as if he were a walking treasure. A light laugh came from the north. A woman in a pink dress, with a charming and seductive appearance, stepped out from behind a tree, toying with a jade slip in her hand. She didn’t look at Lin Yi, but instead turned her gaze toward Xuan Yin Zhenren, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Senior Xuan Yin, such a big commotion, and you didn’t even send word?” Her voice was sickly sweet. “You nearly made this humble girl miss the show.” Xuan Yin Zhenren’s face turned ashen. “A person of Yun Zhi?” he said coldly. “Oh, senior, don’t say such things.” The woman covered her mouth with a laugh. “This humble girl was just passing by, catching a bit of excitement.” But her spiritual sense had already silently coiled toward Lin Yi. Like spider silk—sticky, clammy, and cold. For now, there was no movement from the south. But Lin Yi could feel it—something was there. Not a person, but something more obscure, like a shadow lurking at the bottom of a deep pool, lying in wait, biding its time for the moment of greatest chaos. Nine golden swords still hovered overhead. Crossbow bolts from the east. Two cultivators from the west. The woman in pink from the north. And the unknown threat from the south. And before him, Xuan Yin Zhenren, his killing intent boiling over. Mo Chen’s blood was still dripping. Shi Meng’s breathing was labored, like a bellows being pulled. The burning sensation in Lin Yi’s left arm had already spread to his shoulder. The dark golden patterns beneath his skin seemed to come alive, writhing faintly. He could “hear” the hum of the rules, could “see” the interwoven threads of killing intent, could “feel” the malice pouring in from all directions. Like four walls closing in. There was no way back. He took a deep breath, suppressing the coppery taste in his throat, his fingertips ceasing their tapping. “Master,” he said softly, without turning his head. “Can you still fight?” Mo Chen was silent for a second. Then, the old man used his uninjured right hand to swiftly draw a pattern on the ground. Not a character, but some kind of complex array pattern, its lines sharp and severe, carrying a sense of finality. When he finished, he patted Lin Yi’s back. Once. Hard. The meaning was: *I can.* Shi Meng spat, baring his teeth in a grin full of ferocity. “I’m staking my life right here today!” Xuan Yin Zhenren wasted no more words. He flicked a finger. The nine golden swords moved simultaneously—three thrust toward Lin Yi, three slash toward Shi Meng, three strike directly at Mo Chen. The sword light tore through the air, emitting a sharp, whistling sound. Wherever it passed, deep furrows were plowed into the ground. Almost at the same moment— The crossbow bolt from the east shot out, its ghostly blue arrowhead aimed straight at Lin Yi’s back. The two cultivators from the west also moved. The green-robed man flung out three wind blades, while the gray-robed man summoned a bronze mirror, its light locking onto the center of Lin Yi’s brow. The woman in pink from the north let out a light laugh. The jade slip left her hand, transforming into a mist of pink that silently drifted over. The shadow from the south finally stirred. No sound. But the patterns on Lin Yi’s left arm suddenly seared with pain—the scent of death. He laughed. Truly laughed. Then, he took half a step forward with his left foot, raised his left arm, and spread his fingers—not toward the golden swords, not toward the crossbow bolt, not toward the wind blades, the mirror light, the pink mist, or the shadow— But toward this piece of heaven and earth. Toward those interwoven, chaotic, mutually conflicting threads of rules. “Then…” He rasped. “Give them all to me.” Deep in the marrow of his left arm, those countless needles exploded. Mo Chen’s fingers moved. Not pointing toward his wound, nor toward the distant Xuan Yin Zhenren. With his bloodstained finger, he swiftly traced something on a broken stone beside him. The characters were slanted, the bloodstains still fresh. *Back to back.* Lin Yi understood instantly. Supporting Mo Chen, the two of them slowly, laboriously, shifted toward where Shi Meng stood "The message... has been sent." The voice of Xuan Yin Zhen Ren sounded once more, this time carrying a solemnity akin to judgment. "Within a hundred-mile radius, every orthodox sect and family registered will receive the projection of the 'Heavenly Dao Execution Order.' Lin Yi, you have nowhere to run." Shi Meng spat. "Bullshit orthodoxy! You—" "Brother Shi." Lin Yi interrupted him, his voice unnaturally calm, so calm it felt strange even to himself. His gaze fell upon the dark mountain forest behind Xuan Yin Zhen Ren. There, the birds startled earlier still hadn't landed; more fragmented sounds were coming from different directions—the crisp snap of dry branches breaking, the rustle of clothing brushing against itself, and the faint, icy fluctuations of spiritual power deliberately restrained but still leaking through. The walls were closing in from all sides. This was no metaphor. Lin Yi could clearly feel it. As Xuan Yin Zhen Ren completed his hand seals, a certain intangible, rule-based "wall" was slowly taking shape. Not a physical entity, but a "definition" of space and spiritual energy—this area was being marked as a "cage," or rather, a "hunting ground." The air began to grow heavy, each breath feeling like swallowing thick liquid. "He's setting up an array." Mo Chen's blood-written characters streaked once more. "'Heaven and Earth Net,' the entrapment and killing grand array only deployed by sects when besieging top-tier fugitives... He's waiting for reinforcements." The pain in Lin Yi's left arm flared again. Not the piercing, bone-deep pain of the marrow needle, but a deeper, dull ache, as if his soul were being constricted by invisible threads. It was a warning from the "Heavenly Dao Mark," and also... a kind of guidance? He closed his eyes, forcing himself to ignore the intense pain, and directed his perception toward the forming "wall." He "saw" it. Dense, crisscrossing silver lines, like a spiderweb, spread out from beneath Xuan Yin Zhen Ren's feet. Each line followed a certain cold, precise trajectory, weaving the rules of "confinement" and "seal." They weren't physical, yet were more lethal than any iron bars. Once fully closed, this area would become a dead zone, isolated from the inside and out, its spiritual energy drained dry, even talismans for teleportation would fail. But Lin Yi also "saw" something else. At the intersections of those silver lines, there were a few nodes where the light was a shade dimmer than elsewhere, their operation carrying an extremely tiny, almost imperceptible sluggishness. Like a speck of dust on a gear of a precision machine. It wasn't Xuan Yin Zhen Ren's oversight. Lin Yi could feel that the directions corresponding to those nodes were precisely the directions from which the anomalous spiritual fluctuations had come earlier—those lurking third-party forces. Their spying, their spiritual interference, had inadvertently left a few minuscule "flaws" on this "Heaven and Earth Net." "Master." Lin Yi didn't open his eyes, his voice pressed very low. "The 'Primordial Theft Authority'... can it steal a portion of an array's rules? Not destroy it, just... temporarily 'borrow' a gap?" Mo Chen was silent for a moment. Blood characters wrote: "Cost?" "My left arm might be crippled." Lin Yi said, no emotion discernible in his tone. "Or, the mark's erosion intensifies." "The cost is more." Mo Chen's blood characters came faster. "The array is connected to the caster's mind. You stealing the rules equals a direct attack on his spiritual sense. He will detect it immediately and retaliate with full force. You won't withstand it." "I don't need to withstand it for long." Lin Yi opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the directions of those fluctuations in the distance. "Just a moment of chaos. A gap that makes those 'friends' hiding in the shadows... unable to resist reaching out." Shi Meng understood. He grinned, revealing teeth stained red with blood. "You want to muddy the waters?" "The waters are already muddy." Lin Yi said. "We're just... throwing in another stone." Xuan Yin Zhen Ren moved. He no longer waited. The Heaven's Punishment Sword slowly rose, its tip pointing at the three. There was no dazzling light, no deafening thunderclap, only a pure, soul-freezing "aura of death" gathering upon the blade. The temperature of the surrounding air plummeted, white frost flowers condensing on the grass blades. "Lin Yi, defier of fate, and your accomplices." Xuan Yin Zhen Ren's voice was like ice cracking. "Resisting Heaven's majesty adds to your crimes. Today, let your blood cleanse the filth of Mochen grunted, abruptly raising his hand. His withered fingers swiftly traced through the air, conjuring pale golden talisman characters that materialized mid-air, attempting to form a barrier. But the characters had just taken shape when, under the erosion of that "intent of death," they rapidly dimmed and disintegrated. The wound on his shoulder split open once more, blood staining half his robe crimson. Shi Meng roared, hurling the massive boulder in his hands with all his might. Wrapped in a violent gale-force wind, the boulder smashed toward the sword light, but when it was still three feet from the blade's edge, it silently turned to powder, dissipating into the air. Lin Yi did not move. All his attention was focused on the dark golden patterns on his left arm, on the intersections of those silver lines, on those "dim" nodes. Xuan Yin Zhen Ren's sword was a killing move, but also a cover—the moment he fully activated the "Heavenly Net and Earth Snare" and the "intent of death" attack, the entire formation's operation reached a peak, and the sluggishness of those nodes was also magnified. *Now.* Lin Yi's left hand shot out—not toward the incoming sword light, but toward an inconspicuous, shadow-covered spot on the ground thirty paces to his left. That was precisely the projection of a key node of the silver lines onto the earth. "Pilfer—the authority of 'Confinement'!" No sound, no light. Only the dark golden patterns on Lin Yi's left arm suddenly erupted with a blinding golden radiance. The patterns writhed and spread like living things, instantly covering his entire arm and even extending toward his shoulder and neck. Agony! More intense than any previous instance, as if countless red-hot hooks were tearing at his flesh, stripping his bones. Moreover, a cold force carrying the will of the "Heavenly Dao" flowed back along the patterns, eroding his soul. He bit through the tip of his tongue, the taste of blood exploding in his mouth, using pain to combat pain, maintaining the last shred of clarity. Success? Failure? The next instant, the answer was revealed. Thirty paces to the left, in that shadow-covered patch of ground, the air suddenly twisted. Immediately after, an originally invisible, intangible silver rule-line connecting to a node of the "Heavenly Net and Earth Snare" "snapped" in mid-air. Not destroyed, but... vanished. As if someone had used an eraser to wipe away a line on a canvas. At the break, a palm-sized, unstable "void" appeared. Inside the void was the normal, unconfined scenery of the mountain forest; one could even feel a faint trace of night breeze blowing out from within. Though only palm-sized, though extremely unstable and likely to be automatically repaired by the formation at any moment. It truly existed. Xuan Yin Zhen Ren's sword momentum exhibited an extremely minute, almost imperceptible pause. For the first time, his brow truly furrowed, a flash of disbelief and fury in his eyes. Not because of that insignificant breach, but because—he clearly felt that a small fragment of his consciousness connected to the formation had been "stolen." As if someone had used the sharpest blade to carve out a grain-of-rice-sized piece from his complete awareness. This feeling, far more than the formation being damaged, enraged him, and made him... feel an indescribable chill. "Thief!" he growled, his voice finally losing that composed solemnity, taking on a grating, metallic rasp. "You dare—?!" His furious shout was cut off by greater chaos. The moment that "void" appeared, from at least three different directions in the distant mountain forest, intense spiritual energy fluctuations erupted simultaneously! A shuttle-shaped treasure, pitch-black as ink, shot silently from the woods to the west. Its speed was so fast it left only an afterimage, its target directly pointing at—the newly appeared "void"! It intended to be the first to slip inside, or at the very least, to ascertain what it was. To the east, a hazy pink mist suddenly billowed forth. Within the mist came a woman's flirtatious laughter. Wherever the mist passed, vegetation rapidly withered, and even the air took on a sweet, cloying scent of blood. The mist churned, also rolling toward the "void." To the north, a low, deep beast-like roar sounded. The ground shook as a rock-and-earth golem, fully two zhang tall, tore itself from the earth. It strode forward with heavy steps, crashing through trees in its path, charging brutishly toward the center of the battlefield. Its target seemed to be... Xuan Yin Zhen Ren? Or perhaps, the Heaven's Punishment Sword in Xuan Yin Zhen Ren's hand? Chaos. The "Heavenly Net and Earthly Trap" laid by Xuan Yin Zhen Ren was originally intended to trap and kill Lin Yi and his two companions, cutting off all external interference. But now, Lin Yi had torn a small opening in the "net" through a near self-destructive method. The various forces lurking in the shadows, like sharks smelling blood, immediately threw themselves forward without any regard! What were they trying to seize? The secret of the "Fate Defier"? The research value of the "Heavenly Dao Mark"? Or did they simply want to take advantage of the chaos to snatch a share from Xuan Yin Zhen Ren, or... sabotage this "Heavenly Dao" purge operation? No one knew. But chaos was the only chance for Lin Yi and his companions. "Which direction?" Shi Meng gasped, clenching his fists, his eyes darting rapidly between the erupting areas. The western side with its bizarre magical artifacts, the eastern side shrouded in poisonous mist, the northern side swarming with fierce puppets... None seemed like good choices. Mo Chen's bloody words traced on the ground, only two characters: "East." "Poisonous mist?" Lin Yi frowned. "Mostly illusions," Mo Chen's bloody words explained. "Dreamweaver's... style. She might... be creating chaos, stirring the pot." Yun Zhi? Lin Yi's mind flashed to that lazy, alluring woman whose smile never reached her eyes. Was she here? What did she want? No time to think further. Xuan Yin Zhen Ren had already forcibly suppressed his anger. The Heaven's Punishment Sword shifted direction, no longer locked onto Lin Yi, but slashed through the air toward the first black shuttle-shaped artifact that had shot over! A pure white bolt of lightning tore through the night sky, striking the shuttle artifact with precision. "Boom—!" Blinding white light and violent explosive shockwaves swept outward, fragments of the black artifact scattering everywhere. But at the same time, the pink poisonous mist from the east had spread dangerously close, its sickly sweet, fishy scent assailing their faces. A single breath made one dizzy. The earthen puppets from the north had also charged behind Xuan Yin Zhen Ren, their massive stone fists smashing down fiercely! Xuan Yin Zhen Ren had no choice but to split his focus. His left hand formed a seal, and a yellowish-brown light barrier rose, barely withstanding the puppet's strike. The barrier shook violently, and his body trembled slightly. Now! "Go!" Lin Yi hissed. He and Shi Meng, one on each side, supported Mo Chen. The three of them shot forward like arrows from a bow, charging straight into the seemingly most dangerous pink poisonous mist in the east! The mist was right before them, the cloying scent almost suffocating. Lin Yi held his breath. The excruciating pain in his