A blood-red sky blanketed the peaks of Qingming Mountain. From the summit's black pyramid altar surged a wave of malevolent will—an oppressive tide that crashed over Ji Chen's fragile consciousness like a frigid tsunami. Every breath he took was tinged with rust and rot, the air so heavy it threatened to crush his body, still barely at the Mid-Spirit Refining Stage.
The mark on his palm, the Void Scripture's seal, burned like molten iron—screaming in silent agony.
"Hold your ground!" Nangong Xue's voice pierced the suffocating pressure, firm and resolute. A crystalline aura of pale blue light rippled violently around her, barely holding back the crushing weight of the ancient evil. "Ming Zun's presence has fully awakened. The Nine Nether Rebirth Ritual has begun. This place is a dead zone now. Lin Mo—get them out. That's an order!"
"Director!" Lin Mo's eyes flared with desperation. He knew too well what it meant to stay behind.
"Go!!" Nangong Xue shouted, and with a swing of her sword, a massive wall of glacial ice erupted from the ground, momentarily blocking the flood of thick, inky-black energy pouring down from the summit. The wall cracked with sharp snaps, fractures spreading like spiderwebs.
No longer hesitating, Lin Mo seized Ji Chen, whose legs were buckling under the pressure, and grabbed Su Wan, whose face was pale from the wound in her arm, and bolted toward the hidden rift behind the camp—a narrow escape route concealed by illusions.
Behind them, the world exploded—deafening blasts, surging spells, and inhuman roars merged into chaos as the ice wall shattered into oblivion.
The escape tunnel was narrow, slick, and winding. Ji Chen could barely stand; Lin Mo practically dragged him forward, each breath raking his chest like a knife. Su Wan gritted her teeth, sealing her wound with what little spiritual energy she had left. Blood still oozed from where the green light had pierced her flesh.
Lin Mo's expression was grim. The luminous compass in his hand shook violently, while the walls around them trembled and stones rained from above.
"Cough… did he succeed?" Ji Chen's voice was barely audible, his eyes filled with fear. The mere aftermath of that aura had crushed all hope of resistance.
"Not fully… but it's bad enough." Lin Mo's voice was hoarse. "The ritual has activated the Yin Sha veins beneath the mountain. The entire Qingming Range is now his domain. Director Nangong… they're buying us time with their lives." His voice cracked. "We survive. We carry the truth out."
No one knew how long they ran in the darkness. Finally, a dim sliver of daylight appeared ahead. The three stumbled out of the tunnel into a secluded mountain hollow, far from the battlefield.
They turned back.
Qingming Mountain—no longer a mountain—had become a vision of the apocalypse. A blood-red beam shot into the sky, connecting to a crimson moon partially devoured by shadow. Chaotic spiritual energy churned above in a colossal vortex. Amid its edge, a small, blue figure—Nangong Xue—fought against the dark tide… and then vanished.
"Go!" Lin Mo growled, dragging them into the dense, primeval forest, never once looking back.