The situation was dire—and Pay Ling was worse than useless. A deadweight, dragging Oen Shinae down. More than once, she could have fought her way free alone. But hauling him along kept yanking her back into the endless fray.
If this keeps up… neither of us will make it out alive.
Pay Ling's face darkened like cold ash. "Senior Sister Oen," he blurted, voice tight, "just go! Leave me!"
Pay Ling's fingers twitched toward the escape Dao Fulu Zheng Kinson had given him. In the Abyss Pit Sect—a den of demons where betrayal was as common as breath—Oen Shinae's stubborn protection was nothing short of madness. Righteous. Reckless.
But if things grew worse? If she, too, was pushed to the brink? She'd have no choice but to abandon him—or worse, use him as bait. Better to cut the comrade cord now… than let it end in bloody embarrassment.
However, unlike what Pay Ling estimated, after hearing this, Oen Shinae intended not to take advantage of his words and flee away alone, instead she grabbed Pay Ling's wrist with her palm and yanked him close to her side.
"I, Oen Shinae, always keep my word!" Her voice was sharp as a winter gale, her delicate teenager features hardening into something far older. The air around her seemed to chill as she spoke, each syllable deliberate, unyielding. "I swore to the Bloodline Lord that I would see you claim the Ice Pith Fire. And as long as I draw breath, that oath stands."
SLASH!
Endless vines surged—just in that split-second distraction, a serpentine tendril shot toward Oen Shinae's throat. She twisted, avoiding a fatal strike, but not fast enough. A jagged gash split open her right shoulder.
She didn't flinch. Didn't even glance at the wound.
Instead, her grip on Pay Ling tightened, and with her free hand—she seized one of the massive chains binding the giant black coffin behind her. With a fierce swing—
Pay Ling's eyes instinctively lock onto the a vast blur—too fast to focus, just a streak of metal darkness.
Next second, a wall of compressed air slams into Pay Ling's face like an invisible stone pillow. The shockwave stealing his breath, rattling his skull with a subsonic THRUM that deafened him for a heartbeat—
—just before the sound caught up.
WHUMPH!!!
Then Pay Ling realized—
With a single hand, Oen Shinae flung the massive black coffin like a monstrous meteor hammer, its sheer momentum cleaving through the air. In one devastating arc, it smashed aside the onslaught of vines from every direction, slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash that left a coffin shape crater.
Oen Shinae's hands blurred as they formed seals. A crimson mist erupted around the coffin, and the heavy chains draped across it sprang to life, writhing like a nest of serpents. With a deafening thud, they plunged into the earth. A split second later, the ground trembled as countless chains burst forth, spiking upward in a frenzied tempest of metal. Vines were torn apart in a whirlwind of destruction—splinters and shredded leaves exploded outward in all directions.
"Run!"
Her voice was a sharp bark, cutting through the chaos. Oen Shinae locked onto a direction, seized Pay Ling by the arm, and bolted.
In the shadows, a pair of unseen eyes glinted briefly, watching. Then, with a blink, they were gone.
They had barely fled the grove when Oen Shinae's face paled, a thin stream of blood trickling from her lips. She fished out an elixir pill and swallowed it with a grimace, her breathing ragged.
"Senior Sister Oen, are you alright?" Pay Ling asked, concern lacing his voice.
It was only then that he noticed the chains binding the black coffin weren't mere metal—they extended from the flesh of Oen Shinae's back. Now, those chains glistened, slick with blood that dripped steadily onto the ground.
Glancing back, he saw blood stains glittered all over the path where the two escaped, which was dread shocking.
This surprised Pay Ling greatly. He never expected that there would be a sect comrade senior like Oen Shinae in Abyss Pit Sect.
"Just took a hit to my vitality," Oen said, her voice cold and steadying as the pill took effect. "Remember. Don't breathe a word about me using the coffin."
Pay Ling nodded quickly. He wouldn't mention her injury either.
---
Beyond Dreamweave Grove, the air grew thin and desolate. The landscape stretched out barren and lifeless, but there was no denying it felt safer than the chaos they'd left behind.
The two pressed forward along the path, senses sharp. Before long, they spotted Fang Jit and Sharky Ink waiting anxiously behind a massive boulder.
"Senior Sister Oen!" Relief flooded Fang Jit and Sharky Ink's faces as they rushed forward to greet them.
Oen Shinae gave a curt nod in response. Pay Ling's gaze flicked to Sharky Ink, narrowing. The man's robe was pristine, his hairstyle neat—clearly untouched by the horrors of the haunted grove.
Suspicion twisted in Pay Ling's gut. Before he could probed questions, Sharky Ink clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, his voice dripping with relief after dread. "Junior Brother Pay, thank the holy abyss you're alive! I only turned to help Junior Brother Fang Jit for a moment—blinked, and you were gone! I scoured the area but couldn't find you. I feared my weak cultivation would've cost you your life, so I reported to Senior Sister Oen. Lucky for us, she's so reliable strong—tracked you down and hauled you back."
"You messed up, Sharky Ink," Oen Shinae interrupted, her voice like ice before Pay Ling could respond. "I told you to watch Junior Brother Pay. You knew he hasn't reached the Foundation Stage, yet you got distracted and lost him. Not only did you let him wander off in that grove, you didn't even know which way he went. I followed your useless directions, circling for ages before I finally found him."
"A minute later, and I'd have been dragging back his corpse."
Pay Ling's stomach sank. He'd followed Sharky Ink's instructions to every word, gripping the stick they shared without faltering. If Sharky had been ensnared by the Lurewoven Grove's dreamscape too, it might've made sense. But here he stood—fresh as morning dew, unscathed, and he'd even fed Oen Shinae a false trail when she set out to save him.
This Sharky Ink was hiding something vicious.
Weird, though—Senior Brother Zheng had assigned Sharky Ink to their squad personally. Then why would this man turn on them?
No matter. The motive could wait. Pay Ling needed to neutralize this threat, and fast.
Oen Shinae stepped closer, eyes blazing. "If this happens again, I will show you no mercy. Do you understand?"
Pay Ling glanced up, composed, catching Sharky Ink's face twitch under Oen Shinae's barrage question.
"Aye, Senior Sister!" Sharky Ink muttered, bowing hastily.
Then he pivoted to Pay Ling, plastering on an apologetic grin. "I'm so sorry, Junior Brother Pay. The three of us are used to moving as a unit. When I saw Fang Jit tangled in those dream vines, I acted on instinct. I didn't mean to lose you."
"No, no, it's fine, Senior Brother Sharky," Pay Ling replied, his tone warm and forgiving. "It's not your fault. I'm the weak link here—holding you all back."
Seeing this, Fang Jit exhaled in relief and jumped in, pleading with Oen Shinae. "See, Senior Sister? Pay Ling's unharmed and doesn't mind. Let's move on—Bloodline Lord stressed the mission comes first."
Oen Shinae's frown deepened, but she snorted. "Fine. Next place's Yin-Yang Venomgulf. Stay sharp—I won't tolerate more mistakes."
Sharky Ink nodded meekly, shrinking under her glare. Fang Jit clammed up, his lips tight. Their sidelong glances at Pay Ling simmered with veiled contempt, but no one spoke. A heavy silence settled over the group as they marched onward.
After trudging onward, a faint flicker of light pulsed in the distance, deep within the cave's shadowy maw.
As they approached, the grotto's ceiling soared upward speedily, then dissolved entirely into an endless, gaping sky. The cave spat them out, and they emerged onto a cliffside platform teetering on the edge of a colossal, hollow abyss. The ground beneath their feet felt like a fragile shard suspended in a nightmare.
Ahead, two orbs hung in midair, blazing with unearthly splendor—one to the left, one to the right, twin deities of light dominating the void. The left orb glowed a piercing cyan blue, its frigid aura slicing through the air like a spectral blade, exhaling tendrils of frost that glittered with menace. The right orb burned a molten crimson, a crucible of raw fury that scorched the space around it, radiating waves of heat that warped the very atmosphere. Where cyan clashed with crimson, the world split in two: one half encrusted with jagged, deathly ice that shimmered like frozen screams, the other veined with writhing rivers of fire that pulsed like living wounds. The cyan flame seeped a bone-gnawing chill, sharp enough to flay flesh from spirit. The crimson blaze roared, its heat a relentless hammer pounding them even from this distance.
Down between the suns, jutted a jagged ridge, like the edge of a blackened saw blade thrust up from the abyss below. It stretched downward from their cliff platform, a sinister spine vanishing into the impenetrable darkness beneath—an endless descent that seemed to pierce straight into the heart of some infernal realm. Up close, it revealed itself: a spear-thin stone path, no wider than two inches, impossibly frail. From above, it appeared suspended in the void, a trembling filament swaying over the yawning chasm, as if one gust could snap it into oblivion.
Pay Ling glanced back, and his breath caught. The cave mouth they'd emerged from gaped like a wound in the side of a titanic chasm wall. Its edges stretched outward and upward, vast and monstrous, a jagged curtain of stone that clawed upward a sky too high to fathom and plunged downward into a darkness below too deep to measure. The cave exit was a mere pockmark on this gargantuan facade, a portal from one horror into another.
A dry, warm breeze brushed his face, carrying the faint scent of ash—then, in an instant, a frigid gust lashed him, sharp and sudden, as though the air itself were alive and wrathful. The duality assaulted him: heat parching his skin one moment, cold sinking into his bones the next.
Oen Shinae halted abruptly, pivoting to face Pay Ling. Her voice was low, grave as a tombstone. "This is the Yin-Yang Venomgulf—a death trap in the Gworm Abyss. That narrow strip down the middle is our only shot at survival. The Yin-Yang forces collide there, perfectly balanced, canceling each other out. Stray from it, and you're done. So listen well: whatever happens, keep your feet on that path."
Pay Ling nodded, his expression somber. His gaze slid to Sharky Ink, calm but sharp, a flicker of suspicion glinting in his eyes.
"The front's flat—just watch your step," Fang Jit chimed in, his tone dripping with mockery. "But farther back? Cliffs on both sides, and below—a roiling venom sea, alive with countless serpents and scorpions, churning and hungering. One misstep, Pay Ling, and you're finished. Got the nerve for it, or shall we scamper back now?"
"Shut your mouth!" Oen Shinae snapped before Pay Ling could respond. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing into a sinister glare that pinned Fang Jit like a blade. "You dare mock the Bloodline Lord's orders with that careless tongue?"
Fang Jit's face spasmed, and he forced a brittle laugh. "Just a jest, Senior Sister. My apologies."
Eager to dodge her wrath, he stepped onto the path first, his movements exaggeratedly casual. "See? They call it a deadzone, but stay out of the venom pits, and it's a stroll. Junior Brother Pay, watch me—straight ahead, guts up. Simple."
Oen Shinae snorted, her patience visibly fraying. "Fed up." She strode after him, her steps deliberate and unyielding.
Pay Ling didn't dare to slack or hesitate and immediately followed behind this senior sister.
Behind him, Sharky Ink trailed silently.