Li Chen turned his head, gazing at the towering bone pillars that loomed like the giant ribcage of some primordial beast imprisoning them. "A plan? You overestimate that old fox, Brother Gu. Taixuan may be cunning, but he wouldn't dare gamble his own life within an unstable spatial labyrinth like this. He simply... underestimated the Ancient Demon Land too much."

  "Or perhaps he knows it too well," Zhi Xuan replied softly. He walked toward the center of the hall, where an altar constructed from human jawbones stood firm. Atop the altar, a sphere of black-purple light hovered, emitting a rhythmic pulse of energy identical to the heartbeat they had felt earlier.

  "Look at this," Zhi Xuan pointed toward the orb. "Master Taixuan separated us so that our Soul Transformation energies wouldn't unite against the forest's pressure. He wants us to struggle individually, exhausting our essence to break the illusions, while he... he uses the Soul-Guiding Bell to remain on the true path."

  Li Chen snorted coldly, tapping his jade fan against his palm. "And when we are all drained, he will arrive at the Grave of Rusted Swords as the only one at full strength. Truly the method of a slippery Southern Region cultivator."

  Zhi Xuan did not respond. He raised his right hand, letting the twilight-gray essence crawl from his fingertips toward the black-purple light. The moment the two energies touched, the shrieks of thousands of souls echoed once more, filling the bone hall with an aura of utter despair.

  "What is this?" Zhi Xuan murmured. He withdrew his hand as he felt a powerful demonic breath; he watched as the residual essence on his fingers was sucked into the orb. "It is saturated with such potent demonic aura. It’s as if we have become mere kindling."

  "Kindling..." Li Chen repeated the word with a sudden bitterness. He stepped closer but maintained a safe distance from the bone altar. "You mean every drop of essence we expend to fight the forest's illusions isn't disappearing into the air, but is being funneled into this object?"

  Zhi Xuan nodded slowly, his sharp eyes observing the ripples on the black-purple sphere. Under his Heavenly Eye, he saw fine, nearly invisible threads of energy stretching from all corners of the forest, connecting directly to the core of the orb. "That bell... it isn't just a guide. The Soul-Guiding Bell is the 'shepherd,' while we are the cattle being driven toward this altar."

  The atmosphere in the bone hall suddenly turned frigid, as if every pore of the giant ribs surrounding them began to suck away the warmth of life. Zhi Xuan realized that Master Taixuan had planned this long before they set foot in the Southern Gate. The departure of ten Soul Transformation experts was not an exploration expedition; it was a feeding ceremony for an entity slumbering in the Ancient Demon Land.

  "The Heavenly Demon Calamity Banner," Zhi Xuan hissed. He felt a surge of curiosity regarding the banner that had driven Taixuan to devise such a scheme. "Perhaps it isn't just about gaining control over a demonic army; there might be something far greater tied to that banner."

  "Something greater..." Li Chen whispered, his usually playful face now cast in dark shadows reflected by the purple glow of the orb. "If my guess is correct, the banner is merely a key. A key to open a door that should have remained locked forever at the bottom of the Grave of Rusted Swords."

  Zhi Xuan turned around, staring into the living darkness outside the bone hall. "And Master Taixuan is willing to sacrifice nine Soul Transformation experts for that key. Truly a magnificent gamble."

  Suddenly, the sphere of light above the altar vibrated violently. The faint chime of a bell echoed from the distance, but the sound no longer brought peace; it was a death knell that shivered the Divine Soul. From within the orb, faint projections of what was happening to their other companions began to emerge.

  Through his Heavenly Eye, Zhi Xuan saw the twin elders of the Whirlwind Sect fighting desperately against their own shadows in a narrow bone corridor. Every attack they unleashed—every spark of fire and wind energy—did not harm the shadows, but was instead siphoned by the threads, flowing heavily toward the orb before Zhi Xuan.

  "They are being squeezed dry," Zhi Xuan hissed. "Taixuan isn't killing us directly. He is letting this Bone Forest harvest our essence."

  Li Chen clenched his fists, his sea-blue essence exploding for a moment before he forced it to dim to avoid being drained. "We must destroy this thing, Brother Gu! If we don't, by the time we reach the center of the grave, we will be nothing but helpless, empty shells."

  "Destroying it by force will only trigger an explosion that will bury us here," Zhi Xuan replied with a terrifying calmness. "However, if the firewood is too hot, the furnace itself will decay."

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, allowing the Heavenly Samsara Wheel within his mind to spin with a rhythm opposite to the orb's heartbeat. He no longer suppressed his essence, yet he did not let it explode wildly like the twin elders. Instead, he began to channel the incredibly pure twilight-gray essence, carrying the weight of Ancient Heavenly blood.

  "If he wants essence as a sacrifice, then I shall give him an essence he cannot digest," Zhi Xuan hissed.

  He stepped forward until he stood right before the jawbone altar. He raised his hand, palm open toward the black-purple light. A dense stream of gray energy began to flow, but strangely, it wasn't sucked in violently. It seeped like a subtle poison into the spatial threads connected to the orb.

  Li Chen held his breath, watching as the sphere began to change color. The once solid dark purple was now tainted by pulsating, irregular gray veins. "Brother Gu, what are you doing? You’re feeding it voluntarily?"

  "Not feeding it, Brother Li," Zhi Xuan answered without looking back. "I am simply giving this disgusting essence a new flavor."

  The orb began to shake uncontrollably, its sound shifting from a stable heartbeat to a deafening, static-like screech. The twilight-gray veins injected by Zhi Xuan spread like parasitic roots, crawling through every thread of essence and reversing the natural laws within the chamber.

  "Brother Gu! Look!" Li Chen cried, pointing at the ceiling.

  The colossal bone pillars began to develop fine cracks.

  The yellow light of the Soul-Guiding Bell in the distance suddenly shrieked—a chime full of panic. Master Taixuan, somewhere deep within this forest, must be feeling his control over the formation slipping away.

  Zhi Xuan remained unmoved. His face was as cold as eternal jade, while his Heavenly Eye glowed with a majestic golden light. "This twilight-gray essence carries the weight of the Samsara Wheel. This energy is not something a lowly demonic vessel can contain. If they want a sacrifice, then let this karma devour them from within."

  Suddenly, the black-purple sphere swelled unnaturally. The wailing of souls turned into screams of horror as Zhi Xuan’s essence forcibly purified the dense demonic air within it. Two poles of law collided: the acidity of the Ancient Demon Land's demonic breath against the chill of Zhi Xuan’s Samsara authority.

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  "Get out of here, Brother Li! This altar is about to collapse!" Zhi Xuan commanded.

  Li Chen did not argue. With a snap of his jade fan, he shot backward toward the spatial fissure. However, Zhi Xuan remained, his hand still pressed against the energy orb. He felt a massive backlash trying to shatter his meridians, but his divine body—tempered by five hundred Heavenly Jades—stood firm like a reef in a storm.

  KREK! BOOM!

  The altar of jawbones exploded. The black-purple sphere shattered into thousands of energy shards that sprayed in all directions. But instead of an uncontrolled explosion, the shards were sucked back into Zhi Xuan’s palm, which now formed a small black vortex.

  Zhi Xuan inhaled the remains of the energy—not to consume it for power, but to trace the threads leading directly to Master Taixuan.

  "I found him," Zhi Xuan murmured.

  A massive tremor rocked the Whispering Bone Forest. The bone-trees that once formed a confusing labyrinth began to collapse one by one as their energy supply was forcibly cut. The gray mist thinned, revealing a landscape of total ruin.

  Zhi Xuan streaked out of the collapsing hall, landing beside Li Chen, who was staring in shock at the destruction of the formation. In the distance, they saw the yellow pillar of light from Taixuan’s bell flickering unstable, surrounded by four or five other streaks of light—their remaining companions, now looking tattered and weak.

  "You destroyed the furnace, Brother Gu," Li Chen whistled low, though his face still betrayed his horror. "You just broke the Master's dinner plans."

  "Not entirely," Zhi Xuan replied, his eyes fixed on the center of the forest where a magnificent structure of giant, rusted swords began to appear behind the fading mist. "He still has that bell. And as long as it chimes, he still holds the key to the Grave of Rusted Swords."

  Zhi Xuan did not allow a single hair to be unsettled by the destruction he had triggered. He glided low, passing through bone debris that had turned to white ash, followed by Li Chen, whose vigilance had reached its peak. The air in the Ancient Demon Land felt thinner now, but sharper—like breathing in shards of rusted metal.

  Before them, several hundred miles away, the atmosphere seemed to twist. Master Taixuan’s Soul-Guiding Bell still hovered in the air, but its yellow glow was now infused with streaks of blood-red, a sign that the artifact had been forced to swallow impure energy to maintain its existence.

  "Look there," Li Chen pointed toward the base of the bell's light pillar. "Ba Yan and the General... they are still alive, but their spirits look like candles flickering in a gale."

  Zhi Xuan sharpened his vision. General Tie Feng was kneeling, his bronze armor cracked in several places, while Ba Yan leaned on a broken sword, gasping for breath. Nearby, Master Taixuan stood with a face no longer serene. His beard was stained with residual blood, and the once-wise look in his eyes had been replaced by a madness hungry for achievement.

  "Do not approach," Zhi Xuan said, gesturing to lower their aura. "We need to find the exact location of the Grave of Rusted Swords; let that mad fox stay alive for now."

  The two hovered silently in the shadows of the fallen bone-trees, camouflaging themselves amidst the floating white dust. Zhi Xuan manipulated the surrounding spatial laws with extreme subtlety, creating a thin veil of twilight-gray essence that made them appear as part of the lingering mist.

  Master Taixuan could be seen performing rapid mudras, his hands shaking as he tried to calm the increasingly erratic Soul-Guiding Bell. "Wake up! You are Soul Transformation experts! Do not let these residual illusions erode your mental foundation!" he roared, his voice cracking and devoid of leadership.

  General Tie Feng slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot. "Taixuan... your bell... it is sucking my blood essence. This is no longer just a guide!"

  "Silence, Tie Feng!" Taixuan snapped, his eyes flashing with malice. "Without this bell, we would all be trapped forever in the swamp of despair! A little sacrifice is a small price to pay to reach the Grave of Swords!"

  From behind the ruins, Zhi Xuan watched intently as red, nerve-like threads from the bronze bell crawled out, attaching themselves to the backs of the remaining cultivators. Taixuan was no longer hiding his intent; he was openly turning his companions into livestock to power the artifact.

  "Truly ruthless," Li Chen whispered, his face hardening. "He doesn't just want the Banner; he wants to use Soul Transformation lives as a final blood offering to open the grave’s seal."

  "Let him lead," Zhi Xuan replied emotionlessly. "The Grave of Rusted Swords has guardians that Taixuan cannot breach alone. He needs that 'kindling' to open the door, and I need him to show exactly where the grave’s core vortex lies."

  Suddenly, the earth beneath Taixuan’s group shook violently. From the dust shrouding the horizon, a terrifying structure emerged. Thousands, perhaps millions, of ancient, rusted, and broken swords were thrust into a vast, sloping hill, forming a monument of death that reached toward the copper-red sky. The sword intent radiating from that place was so sharp it could lacerate the Divine Sense of anyone attempting to scan it.

  "There it is... the Grave of Rusted Swords," Taixuan muttered, a laugh caught in his throat.

  In the middle of this expanse of rusted steel was a massive fissure resembling a gaping abyss, emitting a cold chill that carried the scent of blood from thousands of years ago. It was there, according to legend, that the Heavenly Demon Calamity Banner was planted, absorbing the hatred of every fallen blade.

  Zhi Xuan felt the Heavenly Sword within his soul vibrate—not out of fear, but in resonance with the millions of dead sword intents there. He knew this was where fate would be decided.

  Master Taixuan’s staggering yet ambitious steps led the broken group toward the foot of the sword hill. Every chime of the Soul-Guiding Bell now sounded like the screech of twisted metal, triggering a horrific resonance with the millions of rusted blades in the ground. The air around the Grave of Rusted Swords vibrated violently; Sword Intent that had been dead for millennia rose again as a sharp haze capable of shredding the robes and skin of Soul Transformation cultivators.

  "Enter! Enter the fissure!" Taixuan roared, forcing the faltering General Tie Feng and Ba Yan to keep moving.

  Zhi Xuan, observing from afar, narrowed his eyes. Under his Heavenly Eye, he saw that the great fissure was not merely an entrance, but a terrifying vortex of Sword Karma. Thousands of bloodthirsty sword spirits hovered around the abyss, forming an invisible storm of razors.

  "Brother Gu, look at the ground beneath their feet," Li Chen whispered in horror.

  The gray earth under Taixuan and his group slowly turned a deep crimson—not from fresh blood, but from ancient rust mixed with primordial Yin essence. Every time the Soul-Guiding Bell chimed, the ground seemed to swallow their weight, dragging them deeper toward the abyss.

  "Taixuan is baiting the wrath of those sword spirits using the remnants of their lives," Zhi Xuan murmured. He began to move forward with extreme grace, his body seemingly merging with the rust-filled air. "He is using them as spiritual lightning rods so he can slip into the core of the grave himself."

  Suddenly, from within the gaping abyss, a heavy growl echoed—a sound not made by living vocal cords, but by the grinding of thousands of metal blades. A silhouette began to crawl out. It had no definitive shape; it was a mass of hundreds of broken swords held together by black threads of hatred, forming the image of a headless giant knight wielding a massive, crumbling blade that radiated an aura of pure destruction.

  "Destroy it!" Master Taixuan screamed, hurling the Soul-Guiding Bell forward. The bell exploded in a blinding flash of yellow-red light, forcing General Tie Feng and Ba Yan to forcibly release their remaining energy to bolster the strike.

  DUAAAMMM—!

  The shockwave generated by the forced sacrifice of two Soul Transformation experts slammed into the Sword Knight. The ground around the grave shook violently, triggering avalanches of rusted swords that slid down like a rain of death. Amidst the chaos, Master Taixuan laughed maniacally, his body streaking straight past the distracted guardian toward the deepest darkness of the grave's abyss.

  Zhi Xuan watched Taixuan’s departure with eyes as deep as an ancient well. "That fox has walked into a trap of his own making," he hissed. He no longer concealed his aura; twilight-gray essence exploded from his pores, shattering the spatial veil that hid him from the world.

  "Brother Li, get ready. This stage is already too crowded with corpses," Zhi Xuan said as he lunged forward. His body sliced through the sword-intent-filled air like lightning tearing through tattered cloth.

  In front of him, the headless Sword Knight roared in spatial silence. Despite the explosion of the Soul-Guiding Bell, the entity—formed from thousands of Sword Intents—became even more ferocious. It swung its massive blade, creating a horizontal sweep that carried the Law of Decay. The deep red earth beneath it split open, releasing rust-vapor capable of rotting meridians in an instant.

  General Tie Feng, already at his mental breaking point, could only stare at the approaching death with hollow eyes. But before the crumbling blade could separate his head from his body, a black-and-white silhouette appeared before him.

  "Stand behind me, General. You are not permitted to become ash here just yet," Zhi Xuan’s voice rang out, calm yet carrying an undeniable authority.