The passage beneath the Demon Sealing Ruins was narrower than it had looked from outside.
Black vines clung to the stone walls like dried veins. They shifted faintly whenever Fang Lin passed, opening a path just wide enough for one person. Cold air flowed up from below, carrying the scent of damp earth, old blood, and something that had burned long ago but had never truly faded.
Fang Lin walked without haste, Frost Wind held loosely in his hand. His steps made no sound, and behind him, the chaos in the ruined hall had already become distant. The clash of blades, the roars of corpse beasts, and the panicked shouts of recruited cultivators were slowly swallowed by the underground path until only a faint tremor remained.
He did not look back.
Inside his spiritual sea, the grey stone pulsed steadily. Each pulse seemed to deepen as he descended, and the feeling it gave him was neither warning nor excitement. It felt closer to recognition, as though something below had been waiting for something inside him to arrive.
Fang Lin narrowed his eyes slightly. "What exactly is buried here?"
No answer came. Only the whisper from the darkness continued.
Come.
The intent pressed against his perception, faint but persistent. An ordinary Qi Conjunction cultivator might not even understand what had touched his mind, but Fang Lin's soul was different. The Soul Metamorphosis Technique circulated quietly, and his variant soul spread a thin layer of perception around him, careful enough not to expose too much, but sharp enough to catch hidden movement.
The darkness ahead responded.
The black vines stopped moving.
Fang Lin stopped as well.
A moment later, a shadow dropped from the ceiling. A claw tore toward his throat without sound, but Fang Lin shifted sideways, letting the attack pass in front of his face. Frost Wind rose in the same motion, and a pale sword line flashed through the narrow passage.
The creature landed behind him, split from shoulder to waist. Black mist leaked from its wound instead of blood. Its body looked like a dried human corpse, but its limbs were too long, and its fingers ended in hooked bone claws. Even after being cut open, it did not die immediately. Its head twisted backward, hollow eyes locking onto Fang Lin before it lunged again.
Fang Lin's expression did not change. Wind Break Palm compressed silently in his left hand, and when the creature reached him, he turned and struck its chest.
Compressed wind exploded inward.
The corpse thing folded around the force, its chest collapsing completely. It flew into the wall and shattered into pieces, turning into black smoke that seeped into the vines.
Fang Lin watched the smoke disappear. "A corpse puppet?"
No. Not quite.
There were no puppet strings, no formation core, and no controlling talisman. Its movement had been driven by the black mist itself, like a remnant life or something close to it. Fang Lin crouched beside the remains and found a small black crystal among the broken bones, no larger than a fingernail. It gave off a faint darkness aura.
The grey stone pulsed once.
Fang Lin picked up the crystal carefully. The moment it touched his fingers, cold intent tried to crawl into his meridians.
Devour. Kill. Sink.
His eyes became still. Soul power moved, and the foreign intent shattered before it could enter deeper. The crystal dimmed at once.
"Interesting."
He stored it separately. The crystal itself was not especially useful, but it proved something. The darkness aura inside the corpse beasts above had not been accidental. The outer region of the Demon Sealing Ruins was contaminated, and the source was below.
Fang Lin continued walking.
After another hundred steps, the passage opened into a circular underground chamber. Broken chains hung from the walls, each thicker than a man's arm. Ancient formation lines covered the floor, but most had cracked with age. In the center stood a stone basin filled with black water.
The water was perfectly still. There was no ripple, no reflection, and no sound.
Fang Lin stood at the entrance and observed for several breaths. Nothing moved, which only made it more suspicious. He picked up a small stone fragment from the ground and flicked it into the basin.
The fragment touched the surface.
For a breath, there was silence. Then the black water opened like a mouth. A thin black tongue shot out, wrapped around the stone fragment, and dissolved it instantly without leaving even dust behind.
Fang Lin's eyes sharpened.
Corrosive darkness.
On the opposite side of the chamber, another passage continued downward. The basin sat directly in the middle. Fang Lin could go around it, but the formation lines near the walls were more complete than those near the center. That meant the sides were likely more dangerous than the obvious path.
He looked up.
Flowing Wind Steps activated, and his body became light. He moved forward, stepped onto a broken chain hanging from the wall, and used it to shift across the chamber. His body passed above the black basin like a drifting leaf.
The water below surged.
Several black tongues lashed upward.
Fang Lin twisted midair as Frost Trace Sword Art unfolded. Pale sword marks cut through the darkness tongues, freezing them for a brief instant. At the same time, he tapped the wall lightly with his foot and changed direction.
One black tongue brushed his sleeve.
The fabric disappeared silently.
Fang Lin landed on the far side as the black water slammed back into the basin. The chamber became quiet again, as if nothing had happened.
He glanced at the missing edge of his sleeve. If that had touched skin, even his Nine Nether Phantom Body would have felt it.
His expression remained calm, but his caution rose another level. This place was not made for ordinary Qi Conjunction cultivators. No wonder the three sects had brought so many recruited cultivators. Most disciples would die before reaching this point.
As Fang Lin stepped into the next passage, faint voices suddenly echoed from above.
"He came this way!"
"Are you certain?"
"The vines moved. Someone entered before us."
"Could it be that Lin Mo?"
"Impossible. That trash was Early Qi Conjunction. He would already be dead."
Fang Lin recognized one of the voices. A Crimson Flame Hall disciple.
So they had found the passage faster than expected.
He withdrew his perception and continued downward. Killing them immediately would be easy if they entered one by one, but it was unnecessary. If they followed, they could test the dangers behind him. If they survived, they might draw attention away. If they died, that was their fate.
Outside the sect, everyone walked their own path.
Fang Lin soon reached another fork. The left passage carried the smell of blood. The right passage had faint spiritual fluctuations, likely from some old treasure or formation remnant. The middle passage was silent. Completely silent.
The grey stone pulsed toward the middle.
Fang Lin chose it without hesitation.
After entering, the whisper grew clearer.
Come. Not here. Deeper.
His steps slowed.
That was new. The intent had changed. It was no longer only calling him. It was now guiding him.
Fang Lin's eyes turned colder. A call could be bait, and guidance could be a trap. He did not blindly trust the grey stone either. It had helped him many times, but its origin remained unknown, and Fang Lin had long understood one thing clearly.
Treasures did not replace judgment.
He raised Frost Wind slightly and continued.
The middle passage descended for a long time. At first, the stone walls were rough and broken. Later, they became smooth and covered in ancient carvings. Fang Lin saw figures kneeling beneath chains, tall shadows with horns and wings, and cultivators holding swords, spears, bells, and mirrors.
Many carvings had been scratched away.
Not by time.
By claws.
Fang Lin stopped before one damaged mural. Most of it was broken, but one section remained clear. A demon stood beneath falling stars. Around it, countless chains descended from the sky. Cultivators surrounded it from all directions, yet the demon's shadow stretched behind them, as if it had already touched each person present.
Fang Lin stared at the mural for a while.
The darkness aura here had become denser. His own darkness affinity stirred faintly in response.
It was not the same as ice or light.
Ice felt clear. Light felt distant but pure. Darkness felt like depth. Like silence. Like something that did not need to rush, because everything eventually fell into it.
His fingers tightened around Frost Wind.
He had three affinities, but until now, he had not truly cultivated a darkness technique. Perhaps this ruin contained the beginning of that missing path.
A scream suddenly rang out behind him.
Fang Lin turned his head slightly. The scream was cut short. Then came another. Flames exploded somewhere far above, followed by angry shouting.
The sect disciples had entered the underground passage, and they had triggered something.
Fang Lin did not return.
He continued deeper.
The passage ended before a sealed stone door. It was not large, only twice Fang Lin's height, with black chains carved across its surface. At the center was a palm-sized depression shaped like a jagged crystal. Formation lines spread from the depression into the walls.
Fang Lin took out the black crystal he had collected from the corpse creature.
Apparently, it matched the depression too neatly.
He held the crystal but did not place it in immediately. Instead, he studied the formation. The lines were old, but not dead. If activated incorrectly, they might release a killing formation. If activated properly, they might open the door.
His soul perception condensed into a thin thread and touched the crystal carefully. Inside it, he felt a faint remnant intent, hungry, chaotic, and weak. Nothing like the whisper ahead.
Fang Lin crushed the remnant intent with soul power. Only then did he place the crystal into the depression.
The stone door trembled.
Black lines lit up one by one.
For a breath, nothing happened. Then a low sound came from within the stone, and the door opened inward.
Cold wind rushed out.
Beyond the door was a vast underground hall.
Dark pillars rose into shadows too high to see. Broken chains crossed between them like dead bridges. On the ground, ancient corpses sat in rows, all facing the far end of the hall. Some wore armor. Some wore robes. Some were no longer human in shape.
At the far end stood a black altar.
Above the altar floated a sphere of dark mist. The mist churned slowly, and within it, Fang Lin sensed something old.
Not dead.
Definitely not alive.
Waiting.
The grey stone pulsed violently.
For the first time since entering the ruins, Fang Lin felt the pulse shake his entire spiritual sea. At the same moment, the dark mist above the altar moved, and a faint pressure descended. Fang Lin's body became heavy. His soul trembled.
Then a voice sounded in his mind.
This time, it formed words.
"Bearer of hidden night... you came at last."
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed, but he did not answer.
The mist churned again. "Weak body. Young soul. Unawakened blood. Yet the scent is correct."
Fang Lin's gaze sharpened.
Unawakened blood?
He kept his expression calm. "Who are you?"
The hall became silent. Then the mist laughed, a dry, broken sound that seemed to scrape across bone.
"A remnant. A shadow. A prisoner forgotten by those who feared what they could not kill."
Fang Lin's grip on Frost Wind tightened slightly. "And you called me here?"
"I called what could hear. You answered."
The voice paused.
"Come closer."
Fang Lin did not move.
The mist became still.
"Cautious. Good. Those who rush toward darkness are swallowed by it. Those who fear it never touch its truth."
Fang Lin looked around the hall. The corpses remained seated, but faint black threads had begun rising from them. They were thin as hair, almost invisible. At first, they stretched toward the altar.
No.
Toward him.
Fang Lin's eyes turned cold. Wind Break Palm formed silently.
The voice sighed. "You noticed."
The black threads suddenly shot forward.
Fang Lin moved.
Flowing Wind Steps carried him sideways as dozens of threads pierced the place where he had stood. Frost Wind flashed repeatedly, cutting thread after thread, but each severed strand dissolved into mist and reformed from another corpse.
The corpses opened their eyes.
Black light burned inside empty sockets.
One by one, they stood, and the hall filled with cracking bones.
Fang Lin's expression remained calm, but his mind moved quickly. There were too many. Most were weak individually, but some carried pressure close to Peak Qi Conjunction. A few even released traces that approached Spirit Foundation.
In a narrow passage, numbers were troublesome.
In an open hall, they were less troublesome.
Fang Lin stepped forward instead of retreating.
Frost Trace Sword Art unfolded fully, and pale sword marks bloomed in the darkness. A corpse warrior swung a rusted blade at his head. Fang Lin leaned past it, cut through the wrist, then struck the chest with Wind Break Palm. The corpse shattered backward into two others.
Another corpse opened its mouth and spat black mist. Fang Lin's body blurred, Flowing Wind Steps leaving only an afterimage. The mist swallowed empty air. He appeared behind the corpse and severed its neck.
More corpses rushed in.
Fang Lin's aura rose slightly, first to Middle Qi Conjunction, then Late Qi Conjunction. He did not reveal everything, but he released enough strength to move freely. His sword became faster. Wind and frost mixed together. Every step avoided killing lines by the smallest distance. Every sword strike left pale traces that slowed the corpses behind him. Every palm crushed the black mist cores hidden inside their chests.
The voice above the altar watched silently.
After several breaths, it laughed again.
"Good. Very good. You hide strength. You hide soul. You hide body. You even hide your face."
Fang Lin ignored it.
A corpse wearing broken golden armor suddenly appeared before him. Its aura was different, almost at half-step Spirit Foundation. It punched out, and the air compressed.
Fang Lin met it with his left palm.
Wind Break Palm erupted.
The two forces collided. Fang Lin slid back three steps, while the golden-armored corpse slid back one. Its arm cracked, but did not break.
Fang Lin's eyes sharpened.
A corpse with strong body.
The corpse rushed again. This time, Fang Lin did not meet it directly. He stepped sideways, Frost Wind cutting across its elbow joint. Sparks flew. The sword barely cut halfway through.
The corpse turned with unnatural speed and smashed its fist down. Fang Lin's figure flickered, and the fist struck the ground, cracking the stone floor. At that instant, Fang Lin appeared above its shoulder. His palm pressed against the back of its neck.
Nine Nether Phantom Body erupted quietly.
A hidden physical force surged through his arm.
Wind Break Palm compressed at the same time.
The golden-armored corpse's neck twisted with a crack. The black core inside its skull shook loose, and Fang Lin's sword followed, piercing through the skull in a pale line.
The corpse froze.
Then collapsed.
All at once, the surrounding corpses stopped moving. The black threads withdrew, and the hall fell silent again.
Fang Lin landed lightly on the ground, his breathing still steady.
Above the altar, the dark mist churned more intensely than before.
"You are not qualified yet," the voice said. "But you are qualified to be tested."
Fang Lin looked at it coldly. "That was not the test?"
"That was the door asking whether you deserved to stand here."
The mist slowly compressed. A black mark appeared within it, shaped like an eye without a pupil. The moment Fang Lin saw the mark, his darkness affinity stirred violently, and his soul felt as if it had been pulled toward a bottomless night.
The voice became lower.
"If you want what lies beneath this seal, survive three questions."
Fang Lin's expression did not change. "Questions?"
"Not spoken questions."
The black eye opened.
Darkness flooded the hall.
Fang Lin's vision vanished. His hearing vanished. Even the feeling of the ground beneath his feet disappeared. Only his soul remained clear.
Then the voice sounded from every direction.
"First question. When darkness offers power, what do you give it in return?"
A crushing pressure descended upon Fang Lin's soul. At the same time, countless scenes flashed before him. Enemies kneeling. Feng Jiu'er looking at him with pride. The Green Bamboo Sect beneath his feet. Chen Hao dead. Xu Ren begging. Crowds chanting his name.
Power.
Fear.
Worship.
All of it could be his if he accepted.
A weaker cultivator might have drowned in the illusion immediately, but Fang Lin only watched. His soul remained calm. He had wanted strength from the beginning, but strength was not the same as surrender.
He answered without opening his mouth.
Nothing.
The darkness trembled.
Fang Lin's thought was cold and clear.
I take power. I refine it. I master it. I do not give myself away.
For a moment, the pressure became terrifying. Then it shattered.
Light returned to the hall.
Fang Lin stood in the same place. The dark mist above the altar had shrunk slightly, and the voice was silent for several breaths. When it laughed again, there was a trace of satisfaction inside the sound.
"Good."
Fang Lin looked at the altar. "Continue."
The black eye within the mist opened wider, and the hall darkened again.
But before the second question descended, a loud crash echoed from the stone door behind him.
Voices rang out from the entrance.
"The door opened!"
"There is someone inside!"
"A treasure! I can feel a treasure!"
Flame light burst into the hall.
Several Crimson Flame Hall and River Sword Sect disciples appeared beyond the doorway, their faces filled with greed and shock. Behind them, Qin Yuesheng stepped forward with his sword drawn. Huo Lan's eyes locked onto the dark mist above the altar, while Meng Shi stared at the broken corpses scattered across the ground, his expression changing.
Then all three looked at Fang Lin.
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Fang Lin stood alone before the altar, surrounded by broken corpses and fading frost marks. His face was unfamiliar. His aura had been partly revealed. Behind him, the darkness watched silently.
Huo Lan narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
Fang Lin slowly lowered Frost Wind.
His gaze swept across the sect disciples at the door.
The second question had not yet begun.
But another test had already arrived.
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