The relentless crack-crack-crack sent an icy tremor through every heart. An unseen, irresistible force froze them in place, their eyes locked on the stone coffin dominating the room's center.
"Chirp!"
A shrill cry erupted from Lin Feng's robes. Little Qiu poked half its head out, trembling violently, its tiny claws clutching Lin Feng's collar in desperation. Its wide, terrified eyes screamed a frantic warning: Run!
Lin Feng snapped out of his momentary daze. He hadn't even realized he'd stopped retreating. Instinctively tightening his grip on Chang Gong Xiaojing's hand, he spun to flee.
Too late.
BOOOM!!
A blinding eruption of crimson light obliterated the silence. The stone coffin exploded from within. Shrapnel-like chunks of rock screamed through the air!
Mu Qingfeng and Zhou Lihu, closest to the blast, reacted just in time. Protective shields flared around them—BANG! BANG! BANG!—the impacts hammering their defenses, making the shimmering barriers buckle violently. They were near the exit, their shields absorbing the worst, sparing the others in the corridor behind them.
"Kekeke… kekeke kekeke…"
Before the dust could settle, a grating, unnatural laughter scraped against their eardrums. It carried with it an oppressive, soul-chilling aura—a palpable wave of ancient malice and decay.
"It worked… It worked! HAHAHA! Heaven has not forsaken me… NOT AFTER ALL THIS TIME!!"
A voice, sharp as nails on slate, pierced the chaos. Pure, triumphant madness laced every syllable. The survivors froze, minds reeling: There was someone alive inside that coffin?!
"Merely a gaggle of Golden Core and Foundation Building gnats? No wonder the life force here is so… thin. Very well!" The voice dripped with disdain. "As a 'reward' for waking This Lord… your essence, blood, and souls shall nourish my newly awakened spirit!"
Every face drained of color. Comprehension dawned like a death sentence. Panic ignited. A frantic scramble backward surged through the corridor.
Mu Qingfeng, the strongest among them, clung to a shred of composure. His face was pale, terror warring with forced calm as he spoke, voice trembling only slightly:
"Esteemed Senior! This humble one is Mu Qingfeng, disciple of the Verdant Wind Valley. We had no intention of disturbing your cultivation! We deeply apologize—"
SCHLORP!
An obscenely wet sound cut him off mid-sentence. Mu Qingfeng stiffened. Confusion flickered across his face before his gaze drifted slowly downward.
A withered yet unnaturally rigid arm, like petrified wood, protruded from his chest. Its gnarled fist punched clean through his back, slick with gore.
Standing impossibly close, less than a breath away, was a towering silhouette wreathed in shadow. No one saw it move. One instant empty air, the next—standing before Mu Qingfeng, arm buried deep.
"Verdant Wind Valley…? Faintly familiar…" The voice was colder than glacial ice. "Irrelevant. You die."
The arm whipped sideways. Mu Qingfeng's body, impaled like meat on a skewer, was flung away like a sack of refuse. The movement seemed stiff, mechanical. Mu Qingfeng hit the ground. Still. Silent. Utterly lifeless.
A Golden Core stage three cultivator—annihilated in the blink of an eye. No warning. Barely a blur. Those watching didn't comprehend how. Mu Qingfeng likely didn't even know what killed him.
"AAAHHH!!" Zhou Lihu's scream tore through the stunned silence. Standing closest to the corpse, primal fear shattered his reason. He lashed out wildly, fingers jabbing. His treasured flying sword shrieked through the air towards the shadowy figure!
The figure remained motionless, indifferent. Only when the blade was a hair's breadth away—it vanished.
Poof. Gone.
"What—?!" Zhou Lihu's eyes widened into saucers. Panic screamed at him to dodge. Before his muscles could twitch—ice cold agony erupted in his chest.
He looked down. Numbly. Disbelievingly.
Another withered arm, dripping Mu Qingfeng's blood and now his own, punched straight through his sternum. The fist clenched wetly within him.
THUD!
Zhou Lihu's corpse joined Mu Qingfeng's on the floor. The shadowy figure stood where he'd been moments before, shaking thick blood clots from its arm with that same unnatural stiffness. No one saw it cross the distance.
"RUN!!"
"ESCAPE!!"
Panic exploded among the Verdant Wind Valley and Golden Feather Sect disciples crammed in the corridor. Shrieks of pure terror echoed. Survival instinct overwhelmed all else. They turned, trampling each other in their desperate flight towards the outer chamber.
Lin Feng wasn't among them. He'd already dragged Chang Gong Xiaojing further back than the rest. Seeing the slaughter erupt, he abandoned stealth.
"Go! NOW!" he hissed at Chang Gong Xiaojing, urgency cracking his voice.
They whirled and sprinted, already ten meters ahead of the panicked mob, racing for the distant archway leading outside. Terror threatened to overwhelm Lin Feng's thoughts. The thing from the coffin radiated power so absolute it crushed hope. Escape—only escape mattered.
"NOOO—!!"
A blood-curdling scream ripped from behind them about halfway down the passage. Lin Feng risked a glance back over his shoulder—and felt his heart seize.
A shadowy blur had materialized inside the corridor entrance. It moved with impossible speed, a phantom. One moment behind the last fleeing disciple, the next—THROUGH him. The disciple catapulted forward, shrieking, a gaping, pulsing hole where his heart should be.
"KEEKEEKEEKE!!" The figure's rasping laugh echoed like shattering glass. It vanished again. Reappeared behind the second-last disciple.
"AAAGH!"
"SPARE M—AAAH!"
"NO! PLEASE NO—!!"
Screams erupted in rapid, brutal succession. Each cry cut off abruptly. The figure was Death incarnate. Its arms were twin scythes harvesting lives. Foundation Building cultivators—eighth or ninth layer, strong by mortal standards—were insects before it. Dodging was futile. Counterattacks, pathetic swats. Every single victim—chest shattered, life extinguished before they hit the ground.
Three from Verdant Wind Valley. Three from Golden Feather Sect. All dead within ten terrifying seconds.
Lin Feng stopped looking after the first scream. He focused solely on running, pulling Chang Gong Xiaojing onward with desperate strength. Yet each agonized cry hammered his spirit lower. As the sixth scream choked off, he and Chang Gong Xiaojing burst out of the passage mouth—only to find themselves back in the vast, cavernous main hall. The exit to true freedom lay across fifty meters of open, deadly space. And even then—would outside truly be safety?
Lin Feng's face was chalk white. A seed of despair took root—Is this where it ends? Dying for absolutely nothing?
Right then—his right hand jerked empty.
Chang Gong Xiaojing had wrenched her hand from his grasp! Lin Feng stumbled, whipping his head around in shock.
She stood frozen, facing back towards the passage they'd just escaped. Before Lin Feng could utter a word, she turned her head. A smile touched her lips—heartbreakingly tender yet resolute. Tears welled in her eyes, but her gaze was steady.
"Lin Feng... run," she whispered, her voice trembling but clear. "I... I'll hold him back. Just run..."
Silence.
Lin Feng's mind blanked for a heartbeat. Then understanding slammed into him like a physical blow. She's sacrificing herself. To buy me seconds.
Foundation Building seventh layer—against that? It was futile. A meaningless gesture. She knew it. Yet she did it anyway. Because… because she wasn't just trying to stop the monster. She was removing herself as a burden. Hoping that without her, he might have a sliver of a chance.
A sharp, unfamiliar pain lanced through Lin Feng's heart. Chang Gong Xiaojing's image—small, brave, facing death for him—burned itself into his soul. Forever.
Two breaths. That's all the time her decision bought. The final desperate scream from the passage faded into ominous silence. Lin Feng saw it—a flicker of darkness, moving faster than sight, erupting from the passage mouth. Surging towards them across the vast hall floor.
Despair warred with a savage, rising fury in Lin Feng's chest. Die passively? Or fight? His choice was instant. His eyes flared crimson. Every shred of his cultivation base ignited in furious eruption. With a roar ripped from his soul, he slammed his spiritual power into the talisman clenched in his fist—the White Tiger Fierce Soul Talisman!
WWHHOOOMM... ROOOARRR!!!!
Blinding white light detonated from the talisman. The air solidified around a form—majestic, terrifying. The spectral image of a colossal White Tiger solidified mid-pounce! It surged forward, a tempest of fury and spiritual power, soaring over Chang Gong Xiaojing's head like a divine guardian. Its jaws, wide enough to crush stone, roared defiance as it plunged towards the shadowy blur closing in with impossible speed!