The moment Shen Hao stepped into the cave, the air shifted. It wasn't just cooler or heavier, it was alive. His heartbeat struck his ribs louder than it should have, each thump echoing against the stone like the mountain itself was listening. Spiritual sense thinned to a whisper, stripped from him strand by strand, yet his awareness sharpened to a painful clarity. Every drip of water, every scratch of loose gravel under his boots, every shallow breath reverberated in his mind. It was a paradox that made his skin prickle: the mountain was stealing his tools, but in return forcing him to rely on raw instinct.
Lingfeng's voice broke the silence, edged with uneasy humor. "Why do I feel like we just walked into a beast's belly?"
Mo Han's calm tone answered after a pause. "Because, in a way, we did."
That did nothing to lighten the mood. Shen Hao's steps carried him deeper, boots crunching over ground that sloped steadily downward. The air thickened with every step, warmer at first, then hotter, as though they were descending into the lungs of some slumbering titan. Shadows pooled along the walls, deep and shifting, and more than once he thought he saw something move within them, only to find bare stone when he focused.
The first cobweb appeared almost without notice. Thin strands stretched across a corner, pale white, clinging to the rock with an almost glassy sheen. Shen Hao brushed past, unconcerned. Then another web appeared, thicker, sprawling across a jagged gap in the wall. He slowed slightly. A third web stretched across the ceiling above him. The strands shone faintly in the dim light.
And then he saw it.
A wall of webbing blocked the passage ahead, not white but deep purple, like veins of amethyst spun into thread. It was so thick it looked less like silk and more like solid crystal, a barrier forged in a spider's loom. Shen Hao stopped cold, his hand tightening slightly as his eyes narrowed.
"What in the…" His voice was low. "Master, what is this?"
Mo Han stirred within him, ready to speak, but the words died as the cave itself shuddered.
The walls came alive.
From dozens of holes, aura surged outward in violent waves, thick and suffocating, carrying the scent of rot and chitin. Shen Hao immediately snapped into a guard stance, qi coiling in his palm, his eyes sweeping every dark crevice.
"Be careful," Mo Han warned, his voice quick, uncharacteristically sharp.
The warning came too late.
A sound rose from the walls, a chorus of buzzing wings, deep and furious. It grew louder, multiplied, until it drowned out the sound of Shen Hao's own breathing. The holes erupted all at once.
A storm of insects burst forth, massive shapes clawing their way into the tunnel. Chitin gleamed in the dim light, wings slicing the air with a sound like tearing cloth. Their mandibles clicked in unison, hungry and precise.
"Not good, not good, not good!" Lingfeng shrieked, his usual sarcasm edged with panic.
Shen Hao didn't hesitate. Qi ignited in his hand, a white-hot surge that roared outward in a blast. He hurled it at the purple web ahead. The impact cracked like thunder. Silk shattered into shards of glowing amethyst thread, the entire wall tearing open in a violent explosion. Before the insects could close in, Shen Hao launched himself forward, sprinting into the passage with every ounce of speed he could summon.
The swarm screamed after him.
Air thundered with wings. Shadows darted along the walls, claws scraping against stone. Shen Hao ran, boots hammering the ground, his breath loud in his ears. Lingfeng shouted over the chaos, half-panicked, half-delighted. "Oh, yes, Master, brilliant plan, blast through the monster's nest and make us a midnight snack!"
"Shut up and keep sharp!" Shen Hao barked, though even he couldn't stop the grim smile tugging at his lips.
Mo Han's voice cut through the madness, "They are the remnants of the Xuan-Eight Swarm. Once, before cultivators came to this realm, their kind ruled the mountains. They thrived in every cavern, every gorge, until cultivators slaughtered them in waves. What you see are the survivors, driven into hiding, festering in darkness."
"Survivors?" Lingfeng screeched as an insect slammed into the wall beside them, stone cracking under the impact. "If these are survivors, I'd hate to meet their ancestors!"
The tunnel twisted. Shen Hao veered sharply, leaping over a jagged pit, the swarm flooding behind him like black water. He ducked under a collapsing stalactite, shards of stone raining across his shoulders. The roar of wings chased him relentlessly.
His lungs burned, but he forced his legs faster, faster still. The heat in the air was rising, every breath harsher, sweat streaking down his temples. It felt less like a cave now and more like a furnace swallowing him whole.
He darted behind a broad pillar of stone, pressing his back against it, breath ragged. The swarm poured past, wings rattling the air, mandibles snapping, their fury too blind to notice him slip from their trail. The buzzing faded, swallowed by the deeper tunnels ahead.
For a long moment, Shen Hao stood still, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his jaw. He closed his eyes, listening for any stragglers. Silence. He exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from his shoulders, and stepped out from the shadow.
The tunnel opened before him, and for the first time since entering the mountain, choice waited. Five paths stretched ahead, each a dark mouth leading deeper into unknown. Shen Hao's gaze lingered on the second path, where faint echoes of the swarm still drifted. His jaw tightened. That route was dead before he even considered it.
He turned instead toward the fourth path, its opening narrower, jagged stone framing the way like teeth. "This one," he muttered, his voice still low from the chase.
And without waiting, he stepped inside.
The fourth path narrowed quickly, walls pressing close like the mountain meant to crush intruders into dust. Shen Hao moved with measured steps now, cautious after the chaos of the swarm. The air was thicker here, every breath dragging heat into his lungs. Sweat gathered under his collar, rolling down his back in rivulets. The deeper he went, the more the cave felt less like stone and more like a furnace given shape.
At first it was subtle, a faint shimmer in the air, a hiss from cracks in the rock, but soon the ground itself betrayed the danger. A sharp crack echoed through the tunnel, and a sudden jet of molten fire burst from the floor ahead, glowing orange, spitting sparks that seared into the walls. Shen Hao flinched back instinctively, his arm raised against the wave of blistering heat.
Lingfeng whistled. "Well, isn't this charming? Flying bug swarm behind us, volcano in front of us. Master, you sure know how to pick the scenic route."
Shen Hao gritted his teeth, leaping across the still-molten fissure before the next burst erupted. The heat scorched his boots midair, the soles smoking by the time he landed. The ground trembled beneath him as more cracks spiderwebbed outward, magma seeping through like the mountain's blood.
Mo Han's voice rumbled in his mind,"The mountain tests intruders with its own body. You are walking its veins now."
"Feels more like its throat," Lingfeng muttered. "And I'd very much like not to be digested."
Another burst of lava split the ground in front of Shen Hao, the glow blinding in the dim cavern. He didn't stop to think. Qi surged into his legs, and he vaulted upward, his body twisting midair to catch the jagged lip of a rock shelf. Fingers dug into sharp stone, skin tearing, but he hauled himself up before the molten spray swallowed the lower path.
Panting, he crouched on the ledge, heat radiating upward in suffocating waves. The cave smelled of sulfur and ash, bitter enough to sting the back of his throat. Shen Hao wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes narrowing at the path ahead. It sloped deeper still, pulsing with a faint glow like fire smoldering in the rock's marrow.
The descent stretched on, each step weighed down by the mountain's heat. Sometimes the ground cracked beneath his boots, forcing him to leap across collapsing stone. Once, a burst of superheated steam roared from the ceiling, the blast so sudden it scorched a streak across his sleeve. Each hazard demanded instinct, reflex, and raw focus, there was no room for hesitation, no space for distraction.
For a time, even Lingfeng's sarcasm fell silent. The cave's oppressive heat swallowed every word, every thought, until only survival mattered.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the slope leveled. Shen Hao staggered onto firmer ground, lungs burning, his hair damp with sweat. The air here was no less hot, but it carried a different weight, dense, heavy, pressing down on him with the same inevitability as an ocean.
Mo Han's voice broke the silence, "You've reached the deepest vein of the mountain. Beyond this point, there are no more tests of stone and fire. Only the trials of men."
Shen Hao frowned, his chest still heaving. "The trials of men?"
Before Mo Han could answer, the tunnel widened. The walls fell away in a rush, the ceiling arcing higher and higher until the passage opened into a cavern so vast it swallowed the darkness.
Shen Hao stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching against gravel that echoed far too loud in the silence. The cavern glowed faintly, lit by streams of molten rock flowing in deep trenches along the floor. The glow painted the space in a dim, bloody red, enough to reveal what stood at the center.
Figures. At least 40 of them.
Cultivators, spread in a loose circle around the chamber, their robes catching the crimson light. None spoke. None moved. They stood as though carved from the same stone that held the cavern together, waiting, watching.
Shen Hao froze. His hand twitched instinctively toward Lingfeng's hilt, though he didn't draw. The silence in the cavern was alive, pressing in heavier than the heat.
Then, as if pulled by the same invisible thread, every head turned toward him. 40 pairs of eyes locked onto Shen Hao in perfect unison.
Lingfeng's voice cracked the silence, "…Master, I think we just found the welcoming committee."