All the fine hairs on Ling Yun's body stood on end. The piercing chill in the air was so intense that, even from several meters away, he could feel his blood nearly freezing in his veins.
Shocked to his core, Ling Yun abandoned his upward leap, retreating at lightning speed. The sheer explosiveness of his movement sent him hurtling backward like a wisp of smoke, narrowly evading the shadow's sudden assault.
The shadow, failing in its strike, did not immediately pursue. Instead, it drifted down like a formless mist, sinking into the coffin. The moment its lower half made contact with the lotus-shaped disk of the ancient lampstand, a strange and marvelous transformation occurred.
From the seven evenly spaced holes on the lampstand, seven fine beams of brilliant light shot forth, slender and piercing as threads of laser, cutting through the darkness and ascending straight toward the sky. Each beam shone in a different hue—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. The lotus-shaped disk let out a faint hum and began to rotate ever so slowly. As it spun, the entire lampstand radiated an incandescent white light, illuminating the cavernous burial chamber as though it were broad daylight.
Suppressing the turmoil in his heart, Ling Yun fixed his gaze forward. Bathed in the dazzling radiance, the shadow appeared amorphous, an ever-shifting cloud of mist within which lurked a vague, menacing silhouette. Even with his heightened vision, Ling Yun was unable to discern its true form.
Could this be the entity that had abducted Ling Ling and the others? What exactly was it? A ghost? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Though his newfound abilities had emboldened him, an involuntary pallor spread across his face.
Yet, the shadow made no move to attack him again. Its shifting, vaporous body merely writhed upon the lampstand, morphing into various indistinct shapes. The white light grew even more intense, enshrouding the shadow, while delicate threads of even brighter luminescence converged within, weaving like drifting silken strands. These strands of light pierced through the black figure within the mist—only to vanish into its depths, as if swallowed by a bottomless abyss.
A terrible realization struck Ling Yun. In mere moments, the oppressive chill in the chamber had thickened palpably, the temperature plummeting by several degrees. Outside, summer's heat still lingered, yet within these walls, it was as frigid as an icy tomb. Even with his enhanced resistance to extreme temperatures, Ling Yun, clad in only a thin garment, could feel the creeping cold seeping into his bones.
The black figure within the shadow was absorbing the light. He could see it with his own eyes—it was becoming more solid, more defined. Ling Yun lifted his gaze toward the hole above the chamber, his keen senses detecting an ominous surge of spectral energy funneling down through the opening, channeling into the lampstand, and in turn, being consumed by the shadow.
This is bad! It's feeding!
Understanding dawned upon him in an instant. The entity within the tomb was siphoning energy, and that ancient lampstand was its conduit. But why wasn't it attacking him first? Why was it prioritizing absorbing energy? And what purpose did the captured girls serve in all this?
If he didn't act now, when would he? Was he supposed to sit back and wait for this wraith to grow stronger before making a move?
Ling Yun's response was immediate. With a thunderous roar, he surged forward, his fist slamming toward the shadow's shifting form.
Yet the shadow did not dodge, nor did it retaliate. It remained as nebulous as before, an ever-changing mist.
His punch connected—only to pass straight through. It was like striking empty air. A sinking feeling gripped Ling Yun's heart. This thing had no physical form, no tangible presence! Even the dark figure within was nothing more than a reflection. As his fist swept through, he felt nothing but a bone-chilling, needle-like sting.
Stunned for a heartbeat, he quickly regained himself and launched another flurry of attacks—fists, kicks, anything to disrupt the creature. But every blow landed in vain, meeting only the cold, insubstantial mist.
Meanwhile, the dark figure within continued to solidify. Anxiety flared within Ling Yun, yet for all his strength, he had no means to counter this intangible menace. Physical attacks were useless, and in his desperation, he found himself at a loss for what to do next.
The shadow showed no reaction to his assault, behaving as though it lacked awareness, its form merely an unthinking, drifting fog.
Suddenly, Ling Yun's eyes flickered with resolve.
In a few swift steps, he rushed forward and, without hesitation, delivered a crushing kick to the side of the coffin.
The coffin, though seamlessly fused with the stone floor, was made of wood—sturdy, perhaps, but nothing that could withstand the full force of Ling Yun's enhanced strength. Even if it had been cast in solid steel, it would have borne the imprint of his foot.
A crisp crack rang through the chamber. A gaping hole splintered through the side of the coffin, but the momentum of Ling Yun's strike did not end there. His foot drove through, its force carrying on to strike the ancient bronze lampstand within.
The base of the lampstand, firmly embedded in the coffin's foundation, remained unshaken. However, the slender column of the stand could not endure such an impact—there was a sharp snap, and the shaft fractured cleanly in two.
The lampstand toppled heavily inside the coffin.
In that instant, the seven beams of light winked out, their radiance extinguished in an instant. The lotus-shaped disk ceased its hum, and the dazzling glow within the chamber rapidly faded.
Darkness consumed the burial chamber once more.
Sensing that the icy energy at the entrance had ceased to flow, warm, dry air immediately rushed back in. Overjoyed, Ling Yun's heart surged with triumph—just as he had suspected, the moment the artifact that enabled the shadow to absorb the sinister energy was destroyed, its ability to draw power was severed.
Deprived of its energy source, the shadow let out a furious, hissing screech. The swirling mass of darkness, towering over two meters high, surged toward Ling Yun with terrifying speed.
Startled, he instinctively prepared to dodge, but then a realization struck him—the shadow was impervious to physical attacks. If he couldn't land a blow on it, then theoretically, it shouldn't be able to harm him either. There was no need to evade. Bracing himself for the unknown, he stood firm, adopting a defensive stance just in case.
Yet, he had overlooked one critical question—if the shadow couldn't physically harm him, then how had it abducted Li Lingling and the others?
Fortunately, his defensive posture proved to be his salvation. The shadow swept through him like a rushing tide of quicksand, an unstoppable force that sent him hurtling through the air. With a heavy thud, he crashed onto the cold stone floor of the tomb over ten meters away. His arms, raised in defense, throbbed with searing pain, as if they had been shattered. Yet, the agony paled in comparison to the chilling force that had pierced through his body.
The frigid sensation was more than mere cold—it was a venomous frost that gnawed at him from within. It felt as if a swarm of tiny, icy parasites had burrowed into his very flesh, slipping through his pores, seeking to freeze his organs solid.
But the cold was not the only affliction. A sudden wave of weakness washed over him, not the fatigue of physical exhaustion, but a deep, soul-wrenching frailty—like the lingering enervation of a grievous illness. As someone attuned to his own psychic energy, Ling Yun was horrified by the realization.
The shadow swirled ominously, circling the tomb before lunging at him once more. But this time, Ling Yun refused to remain passive. If the shadow could strike him, then at the moment of impact, it must possess some degree of corporeality. Simply dodging would be futile. Its erratic, lightning-fast movements rendered it nearly impossible to outrun. Even if he abandoned Li Lingling and the others to flee, he doubted he could outrun its pursuit.
In the blink of an eye, shadow and man collided once more. The bone-chilling sensation engulfed him again, but this time, he managed to maintain his footing, twisting in midair and landing steadily.
Shock and fury surged within him. He had felt the full brunt of the shadow's assault—it was no weaker than before. Yet when he struck back, his fists passed through empty mist, just as before. That could only mean one thing: the shadow could harm him, but he could not harm it. Worse still, the eerie enervation returned, far more pronounced than before. If he allowed the shadow to keep attacking him, he would soon waste away entirely.
His gaze darted toward the five unconscious girls lying in the corner. A dreadful realization dawned upon him—the shadow was not only absorbing energy from the lantern but also possessing some unknown means of draining vitality from living beings. If even he, with his supernatural abilities, was succumbing to its influence, then what chance did ordinary people like Li Lingling have?
The shadow emitted another ghastly hiss and lunged yet again, its trajectory and posture eerily identical to before. Was this entity a sentient being, or merely an instinct-driven wraith?
Summoning his last line of defense, Ling Yun unleashed his psychic energy, an invisible force field surging forth to halt the shadow's advance. If this failed, there would be nothing left to do but resign himself to death.
The shadow halted a meter before him, seemingly frozen in place. Physical attacks were useless, but at last, his mental energy had some effect. Relief washed over him. If only he had relied on his telekinetic abilities from the beginning. However, he had only ever used them for manipulating objects from a distance—he had never truly mastered them in battle.
But his relief was short-lived. A chilling dread took hold as he realized his force field could not entirely restrain the entity. Though slowed, the shadow still crept forward, ever so slightly. Within its swirling darkness, the black figure at its core grew more distinct, more menacing.
Two elongated, claw-like appendages emerged from the shadow, spectral talons stretching toward him. For the first time, the entity assumed a form of overt aggression.
Ling Yun's face turned deathly pale. A faint trickle of blood seeped from his nostrils—he had pushed his psychic power to the limit. The force he was exerting was enough to halt a speeding car in its tracks, yet he could not fully contain this monstrous entity. The shadow radiated an eerie energy of its own, akin to psychic force, and it was stronger.
The ghastly claws loomed ever closer, now less than a meter away. Ling Yun had no options left. His mental energy was stretched to the breaking point—if he faltered, the shadow would strike in an instant. At such close range, there would be no escaping.
The spectral talons were nearly upon his face. A numbing despair clawed at his heart. Was this the end? For a fleeting moment, the thought of surrendering to fate crept into his mind.
No.
"I refuse to die. I will survive. I must survive."
A furious roar of defiance erupted in his mind, as thunderous as a crashing tempest.
In the face of death, the indomitable spirit of the young warrior ignited like an inferno, blazing with unyielding resolve.
His consciousness roared with a deafening explosion, his mind wiped blank in an instant.
A surge of psychic energy, like a hurricane of unparalleled magnitude, erupted from his being.
The shadow's talons were obliterated in an instant, shredded into nothingness.
Then, as if caught in the wrath of a divine tempest, the entire shadow was hurled backward, sent flying like leaves before an autumn storm.
Ling Yun closed his eyes, then opened them.
His irises gleamed with an eerie silver light, a radiance that could chill the soul.