"Dark arts!" Xiao Chen's expression shifted drastically. The transformation Wu Wanli underwent was unmistakably demonic cultivation, allowing him to spike his power in mere moments.
And at that moment, Devouring Heaven Finger descended like a wrathful god.
Wu Wanli, now a black-scaled demon, had lost much of his humanity, his actions reduced to primal instincts. Yet the overwhelming danger bearing down on him triggered a guttural roar. Black mist surged from his body, forming a dense barrier that cocooned him in darkness.
Silent destruction.
Devouring Heaven Finger slammed into the mist, sending tremors through it. Wu Wanli's feral eyes widened in horror as the mist began to collapse, its energy consumed entirely by the ominous finger. The once-crystalline construct turned jet-black, exuding a chilling aura of demonic energy, growing even more potent.
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the corridor, debris flying everywhere and choking the air with dust. Xiao Chen, using his spiritual sense, surveyed the aftermath. The previously smooth stone corridor now sported a massive crater, half a meter deep and several meters wide. Wu Wanli lay at its center, his demonic transformation undone. His body was riddled with injuries, unconscious but still clinging to life. Only his demonic augmentation had spared him from certain death.
As the dust settled, Xiao Chen walked toward the battered figure, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. With a flick of his hand, he levitated Wu Wanli's limp body and closed his eyes, focusing his spiritual sense. He began to forcibly extract Wu Wanli's memories using the Soul Searching Technique.
Moments later, Xiao Chen opened his eyes, a strange glint flashing within them.
Wu Wanli, already on death's door, convulsed one last time before succumbing to the invasive technique. His lifeless body collapsed like a broken doll. Xiao Chen took the storage pouch from his waist and discarded the corpse. Standing silently, he processed the information he had just unearthed. Then, a faint, mocking smile crossed his lips. Without hesitation, he pressed forward.
Deep underground, far from the corridor, a soft groan echoed through a dark chamber.
Moments later, a chilling yet melodic laughter filled the space.
"What an interesting little creature. He killed one of my magic-slave servants. How bold. But boldness comes with a price..." The voice was both entrancing and suffused with icy malice.
Back at the flower garden, Chu Kuang's face darkened as he abruptly lost his connection to Wu Wanli's aura. A cold glint flashed in his eyes.
"Impossible," Chu Kuang muttered, his expression twisted with unease. "Even if those two puppets killed Liu Yun, Wanli should've been able to retreat. How could he have fallen?"
A sense of foreboding crept into Chu Kuang's heart, a sensation he hadn't felt in years.
"Chu Kuang, what's wrong?" the Di brothers asked cautiously, exchanging uneasy glances.
Chu Kuang masked his emotions with a calm expression and replied flatly, "Nothing. Let's move. We need to break through the next barrier quickly."
Meanwhile, in another part of the labyrinth, a massive creature loomed—its body covered in razor-sharp legs, its serpentine frame coiled menacingly. The Thousand-Legged Beast, an ancient terror, let out guttural growls that echoed through the cave.
Surrounding it were three figures, their presences radiating dominance.
One was a skeletal old man, his sunken eyes glowing with an eerie green light, his withered body radiating a deathly chill.
Another was a rotund, red-faced man dressed like a jovial merchant. His demeanor was polite, even amiable, but his eyes betrayed a ruthless coldness.
The last was an elderly woman with flowing white hair and a perpetually sour expression, as though the world owed her an apology.
Each of these figures exuded an oppressive aura—they were all Golden Core cultivators.
"It's quite the find," the merchant-like man said with a measured smile, observing the beast. "A fully grown Thousand-Legged Beast this large? It must have undergone some kind of mutation. How extraordinary."
The skeletal man's green eyes flickered with excitement as he stared at the creature. "Such a specimen... Its blood essence alone will make this trip worthwhile. Luck is on our side."
The elderly woman, frowning in disdain, snapped, "Quit drooling over your prize, Spirit Corpse. Hurry up and deal with it."
The skeletal man, known as Spirit Corpse, didn't react to her scorn. Instead, his body erupted with foul corpse energy, which surged toward the beast like a suffocating fog.
After leaving the corridor, Xiao Chen found himself at the edge of a serene scene—a narrow, black wooden bridge spanning a calm river. The water flowed softly, eddies forming around scattered stones.
"This is exactly as described in Wu Wanli's memories," Xiao Chen muttered. "After the corridor, everyone encounters an isolated illusion. To proceed, the illusion's array must be broken."
His brows furrowed in thought as he studied the picturesque landscape. Though it appeared tranquil, he knew it was a meticulously crafted trap designed by ancient cultivators. A single misstep could trigger devastating consequences.
Closing his eyes, Xiao Chen extended his spiritual sense outward, probing every inch of the scene. When he reopened them moments later, he stepped forward decisively. His feet moved in a calculated rhythm—three steps forward, two to the left, one back—until he reached the edge of the bridge unscathed.
Sweat glistened on Xiao Chen's brow as he exhaled a long breath. "That was close. This spot must be the starting point for breaking the formation. If I'd been wrong…"
Ahead, nine more steps remained between him and the bridge's far side. Each step emanated an invisible, suffocating danger.
Taking a deep breath, Xiao Chen lifted his foot and stepped forward.
Instantly, the world shifted. The serene river vanished, replaced by an infernal landscape of flames and molten rock. Heat waves scorched his skin, and his spiritual barrier shattered in an instant. Yet Xiao Chen pressed on, his steps deliberate.
As he reached the edge of the flaming abyss, the scene dissolved again. Now he stood in a frozen tundra, the frigid air biting into his flesh. The ground beneath him rumbled as an avalanche roared toward him.
Still, Xiao Chen did not falter. Step by step, he pushed forward, ignoring the overwhelming cold.
Finally, he emerged into a gray, featureless void. A black-robed figure stood before him, wielding a shadowy sword. Though illusory, the figure's sword intent was all too real, cutting through the air like a blade to the soul.
Xiao Chen's instincts screamed of imminent death as the figure raised its sword, preparing a devastating strike.
Trusting his intuition, Xiao Chen moved swiftly—sidestepping the attack at the last possible moment. The sword intent grazed his face, close enough to send a chill down his spine.
As the attack dissipated, the shadowy figure began to fade. Xiao Chen thought he glimpsed a flicker of relief in its eyes before it vanished entirely.
The illusion shattered like glass, returning Xiao Chen to the riverbank. Ahead, the black bridge and flowing river dissolved into nothingness, replaced by a solid path leading forward.
Xiao Chen smirked faintly. "Looks like I've broken through."