The high roof above had already sealed the hole where she had fallen through.
Since she was deep underground, the light was dim. If not for the faint gleam of several special crystals embedded around the place, the hall would have been shrouded in total darkness.
Frozen blocks of ice reflected and refracted the crystal glow, creating an oddly beautiful sight.
Although the spiritual energy within Song Wanníng's body was sealed, she tried circulating demonic qi and found it completely unaffected.
Her brows lifted slightly. It seemed this place had once been the territory of the demon race, with restrictions designed specifically against orthodox cultivators.
At the moment, she was standing in a grand hall. A spiral staircase wound upward in the center, disappearing into the shadows above.
Song Wanníng tightened her grip on her longsword and began to climb, every step measured and wary.
Meanwhile, Jiang Cen had finally forced her way through the dense mist. Her face was pale from the cold. Her entire body was stiff, teeth chattering uncontrollably. She wanted nothing more than to turn and leave.
But the thought of the treasure hidden here made her hesitate. Unwilling to give up, she pushed herself forward. An enormous ice sculpture came into view. Her heart leapt with joy and, ignoring her frozen limbs, she moved toward it as quickly as she could.
Yet the frigid air made even walking across the ice a challenge. Before long she lost her balance and fell hard to the ground, ending up in a disgraceful heap. She nearly spat blood in frustration. Since coming to this world, she had never suffered such humiliation.
Even with defensive techniques, the cold here was something no cultivator could truly withstand. Gritting her teeth, Jiang Cen forced herself to her feet and approached more cautiously this time. Her progress was much smoother. Soon, she reached the edge of a deep pit and looked down.
"It really is here!"
Relief and excitement flooded her, washing away every trace of her earlier resentment.
Without another thought, she jumped.
…
On the other side, Song Wanníng had already reached the second floor. Here, countless ice mirrors divided the hall into countless broken fragments. Everywhere she looked, her own reflection stared back at her. Within moments her head began to spin, and she lost her sense of direction.
She frowned, searched the area briefly, and, finding nothing of note, headed for the third floor.
Third, fourth, fifth…
Song Wanníng climbed floor after floor without seeing so much as a shadow of treasure.
Nothing but ice.
A glance at the Three Lives Mirror showed Jiang Cen still plummeting. It would take her some time to catch up.
Song Wanníng's expression darkened as she quickened her pace upward.
But the result remained the same: only more ice.
Could the treasure really not be here?
She felt doubt creep in, but refused to accept it.
There was no reason why Jiang Cen could find something here while she could not. Her Luck was strong right now. If she stayed patient, she was bound to uncover it.
She instructed Xiao Jin to guard the lower floors, then began combing through the final level. There were no more staircases above. If there was something, it had to be here. Weaving between the ice mirrors, she searched for any flaw in their arrangement.
Time slipped away. Jiang Cen was drawing closer, but Song Wanníng still had no clue. Her gaze darted rapidly over the mirrored surfaces, her expression growing more serious by the moment.
The dizziness came again, blurring her vision until it felt like she could barely stand.
Before, she would avert her eyes the instant she felt such vertigo.
But now… maybe keeping her gaze locked would reveal something.
Ignoring the discomfort, she stared unblinking at the mirrors.
Her knees weakened, and she stumbled to one side.
Song Wanníng did not fight it. She simply sat down hard, yet her eyes never left the ice.
Gradually, the mirrored surfaces began to shift before her. Amid the dizziness, a winding path emerged, and at its far end stood a massive gate. Her heart gave a jolt. She rose to her feet at once and forced herself along that twisting path.
Her unsteady body made the walk difficult, but her mind stayed clear. With demonic qi bolstering her, she reached the gate in just over ten seconds.
Without hesitation, she pushed it open. A tremendous force yanked her inside.
Bang!
The gate slammed shut behind her. Song Wanníng steadied herself, and the dizziness finally receded.
Darkness surrounded her, so deep she could not see her own hand.
Fighting off a wave of nausea, she drew out a small lamp. The glow barely pushed back the black, but it was enough to see.
A stone altar stood ahead. Heavy chains wrapped around it, locking a small box firmly in place at its center. Strange symbols crawled over the altar's base, laced with a familiar demonic aura.
Beneath it, she could feel a strong, oppressive yin presence.
Jiang Cen's stolen thoughts had only mentioned a treasure here. She herself had no idea what the treasure actually was.
Could it be this box?
Yet no matter how she looked at it, this did not seem like any treasure. It was more like… a yin creature sealed away from the world.
Yin creatures were born from concentrated yin energy between Heaven and Earth. Their aura resembled that of ghost cultivators, yet was subtly different.
Most yin creatures had no consciousness, acting entirely on instinct.
Ghost cultivators, on the other hand, usually retained some remnant of reason. Even an evil spirit still had awareness.
Now that the underworld had fallen silent, ghost cultivators had long since vanished. Yin energy had also faded, and creatures like this were rarely seen anymore.
Her gaze lingered on the altar as she carefully released a thread of demonic qi, stepping toward the box.
"Big Sister, this place feels awful. I don't like it."
Long Ling finally spoke. From the moment they entered, she had been struggling to breathe, as if some unseen malice had fixed its gaze upon her.
"There should be a yin creature here. It's stronger than you, which is why you're being suppressed."
Although Long Ling's true form was powerful, her spirit form was still newborn. Against a yin creature like this, she was no match.
"What's in that box?"
Long Ling clung to Song Wanníng's shoulder, staring at it with prickling dread.
Song Wanníng shook her head and stepped closer.
For reasons she could not explain, the presence inside felt almost… familiar.
It was a strange, unsettling feeling.
She tested it, releasing a thin wisp of demonic qi. The sense of familiarity grew stronger.
So this yin creature was connected to demonic qi.
Realizing this, Song Wanníng released a larger wave.
The box began to tremble excitedly, straining as though to break free of the altar.
Her eyes lowered. A yin creature… with consciousness? That was unheard of.
Yet it bore her no hostility. A bold thought took shape in her mind.
She stepped right up to the altar and poured demonic qi into it without restraint.
The yin creature inside reacted with wild excitement, straining toward her.
But before it could reach her, the symbols around the altar blazed and transformed into chains that lashed tight, forcing it back.
A suffocating aura swept through the room.