"Qinglan—" Zhi Xuan’s voice caught in his throat as Zhu Qinglan suddenly grew heavy and staggered, her eyes tightly shut. With swift reflexes, Zhi Xuan caught her body before she could collapse onto the cold crystal floor.

  "This girl," Zhi Xuan hissed, touching her wrist to feel her pulse. He sensed her soul was in chaos, drained by exhaustion. "Even the late stage of Weaver Transformation struggles to endure this place. Her soul is frantic, as if she were trapped in absolute silence before meeting me."

  He lifted her easily, placing one hand behind her back and the other beneath her knees. Zhi Xuan scanned the surroundings, finding the pavilion increasingly strange. He felt the pulse of the karmic bond tied to Zhu Qinglan; she was alive, merely unconscious.

  "Damn, this woman is heavy," Zhi Xuan grunted, though he moved like a streak of light, shifting between the shadows he passed. "At the very least, I must get her out of this pavilion."

  Zhi Xuan sped through corridors that seemed to stretch without end. Every time he leaped into a shadow, he felt the space around him trying to pull at him, creating a haunting illusion of silence—the kind of silence capable of stripping a practitioner of their sanity within the time it takes for a few incense sticks to burn.

  He stopped in the center of a hall and sharpened his Divine senses. The Heavenly Eye in his right socket glowed, triggering the faint threads woven into the fabric of space. He recoiled, realizing he was back at the exact spot where he had first found Zhu Qinglan; he had traversed this corridor multiple times.

  "There is no way out?" Zhi Xuan murmured, his brow furrowing. "So, when I appeared here earlier, it meant I had entered this pavilion with no way to exit?"

  He looked down at Zhu Qinglan, noting her face was contorted in discomfort. He knew that leaving her here would only invite disaster. Moreover, he was bound by karma as her Dao Protector. He exhaled a soft sigh and tightened his embrace around her.

  "The path in this pavilion refuses to be mapped," he muttered. He realized that even though he could see the spatial threads, the layout defied logic. "Interesting. Not even the memories of the Ancient Heavens contain a method to break this formation."

  He pulled Zhu Qinglan closer to his chest and chose to walk slowly along the corridor. He looked around, observing the thick mist lining the edges of the hallway. It was as if the pavilion sat atop a high mountain peak, surrounded by bottomless abysses hidden by fog.

  Zhi Xuan walked with calm deliberation, each footfall on the marble floor producing an echo that returned to him from a thousand different directions. Within his arms, Zhu Qinglan began to mumble in an incoherent delirium; cold sweat soaked the Holy Maiden's temples as she appeared anxious and confused even in her subconscious state.

  "Don't... don't leave me alone in this endless place..." Zhu Qinglan whispered hoarsely, her fingers clutching Zhi Xuan’s white robe so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  Zhi Xuan did not answer, but he held her close, letting the warmth of his body soothe her. He kept his eyes on the rolling mist at the edges of the path. It felt as if he were walking on the edge of a sword that could give way at any moment, with pits on either side ready to swallow him whole.

  "If this path has no end," Zhi Xuan murmured, his sapphire-blue eyes flashing with cold resolve, "then the fault lies not in the path, but in my own vision."

  He stopped at a turn that looked identical to the ten he had just passed. Instead of stepping forward, Zhi Xuan closed his eyes completely. He shut down his sight, his hearing, and even retracted his Divine sense until only a single point of focus remained in his soul: the heartbeat of Zhu Qinglan in his arms.

  In that inner darkness, the crystal corridors and pavilion pillars began to fade. What remained was a strange wind—a wind that did not blow from the front or back, but billowed from every direction. He heard whispers and soft laughter from women who seemed to be right beside him, but his Reincarnation Disk held firm against the intrusion.

  "Zhi Xuan-gege, you look so tired," a voice whispered seductively in his ear. He could feel the warmth of the breath beside him. "Qing'er can brew a fragrant tea for you..."

  "Open your eyes, Zhi Xuan-gege," the voice came from behind him, purring like a fox. "Why don't you want to look at Qing'er?"

  "Gege... why are you so cruel?" the voice now sounded tearful, directly in front of his face. "Look, I'm hurt..."

  Around him, there might have been many faces of Zhu Qinglan—smiling temptingly, acting spoiled, or weeping in sorrow—creating a vortex of mist capable of shaking any practitioner. Zhi Xuan remained unmoved. He felt only the pulse of the real Zhu Qinglan in his arms, the only thing distinct from the rhythm surrounding him.

  Zhi Xuan did not respond, let alone open his eyes. To him, those voices were mere ripples on a frozen pond of the soul. He knew well that in a distorted place like this pavilion, truth lay not in what was seen or heard, but in what remained real when everything else vanished.

  Zhu Qinglan’s trembling grip on his robe was his only compass. Her pulse, erratic with fear, was the only genuine spark of life in this symphony of falsehoods.

  "Gege... do you prefer the body you hold over me?" the voice whispered right against his lips, carrying an intoxicating scent, but with a tone too sweet to be real.

  Zhi Xuan snorted softly, a cold smile playing on his pale lips. "The world is vast, but there is only one Qinglan who shares a karmic burden with me. You... are merely shadows of trapped fear and regret."

  Suddenly, he did not step forward along the corridor; instead, he stepped sideways—straight into the bottomless abyss shrouded in thick mist. As his foot stepped into the void, the laughter and sobbing exploded into ear-piercing screams before finally being swallowed by absolute silence.

  WUUUUUNNNGGG—!

  The world around Zhi Xuan spun violently. The sensation of falling struck his mind, yet he tightened his grip on Zhu Qinglan, refusing to let her go. When he finally opened his eyes, he was no longer in the endless pavilion corridor. He stood on a path surrounded by an unsettling, grey, and oppressive fog.

  "This... feels like another endless road," Zhi Xuan sighed deeply. "Though I find no illusions, the atmosphere is piercing. This is different from the previous pavilion."

  He looked down and saw Zhu Qinglan slowly opening her eyelids. The lines of anxiety on her face faded, replaced by confusion as she realized she was in Zhi Xuan’s embrace. She gasped, looking around before looking back at his face.

  "Zhi... Zhi Xuan?" her voice was raspy, her eyes still shadowed by fear. Realizing her position, her pale face was suddenly flushed with a faint red hue. "Put... put me down."

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  Zhi Xuan did not lower her immediately. While still holding her, he generated a powerful spiritual circle that seeped into both of them. "The atmosphere here is erratic. You could get lost or torn apart by the mist. Are you sure you want to get down?"

  Zhu Qinglan was stunned. Her tongue felt tied as she felt Zhi Xuan’s protective energy crawling into her, calming the turmoil of a soul that had nearly cracked under the pavilion's illusions. She could feel her heart pounding—no longer from fear, but from a proximity that felt strange for a Holy Maiden worshipped as a goddess above the clouds.

  "What is this place?" Zhu Qinglan whispered, her voice still trembling as she did not loosen her grip. "Earlier... I felt like I was walking for thousands of years. I saw my kin turn to ash, then I saw you... but you were just silent, with your back to me. Every time I called out, the road just grew longer."

  Zhi Xuan walked calmly along the stone path. "I understand, but the previous pavilion's illusions were easy to identify as such. This path, however, cannot be dismissed as a mere illusion."

  He walked without haste, each step on the stone path producing a dry tick in the silence of the grey fog. Zhu Qinglan, despite having asked to be put down, now leaned her head against his shoulder, letting his cold aura serve as an antidote to her suffocation.

  "This mist... it doesn't just block sight," Zhu Qinglan whispered, reaching out a delicate hand to touch the grey vapor drifting near them. "It siphons divine essence. Zhi Xuan, if we don't find the end of this path soon, we will eventually succumb to exhaustion."

  Zhi Xuan nodded slightly, his sharp eyes peering through the fog. "Don't touch it directly. As long as you don't make contact, nothing will pierce this protection."

  Suddenly, from ahead, the sound of clashing metal echoed. Clang! Clang! The sound was heavy and slow, as if someone were dragging a giant iron chain over the stone surface. The bone-chilling cold suddenly doubled, forcing Zhi Xuan to merge into the shadows, pulling Zhu Qinglan down with him.

  "Hold still, Qinglan," Zhi Xuan whispered, completely suppressing their auras.

  The atmosphere behind the curtain of grey mist became so silent that Zhu Qinglan’s racing heartbeat sounded like thunder in Zhi Xuan’s ears. Zhi Xuan’s cold but firm fingers pressed against the Holy Maiden’s soft lips, while their bodies melded perfectly into the depths of a shadow untouchable by mortal senses.

  Zhu Qinglan froze, her beautiful eyes widening as she stared into Zhi Xuan’s clear sapphire gaze. The scent of his body—cold, pure, yet carrying a familiar trace—enveloped her senses, creating a narrow space that felt strangely safe amidst this hellish fog.

  From within the thick grey vapor, a figure began to emerge. It was no ordinary human, but a giant standing three zhang tall, clad in bronze armor that was rusted and broken. The figure had no solid body; within the hollows of its armor, only a pulsing black smoke remained.

  In its right hand, it held a massive, blunt axe, while its left hand dragged a black iron chain tied to dozens of small wooden coffins. Clang... Clang... Every time the chain moved, the souls within the small caskets seemed to shriek. The giant stopped directly in front of Zhi Xuan’s shadow hiding spot.

  Its metal-covered head turned stiffly, as if sniffing for the scent of life caught by its dead senses. Zhi Xuan clenched his free hand, trying to suppress the death resonance emitted by the giant. He tightened his hold on Zhu Qinglan’s waist to ensure she wouldn't lose consciousness from the pressure of the aura.

  The giant growled—a sound like falling stones at the bottom of a canyon. It raised its axe and slammed it into the stone floor with a force that made the ground tremble.

  BOOOM!

  A grey shockwave swept through the area, but Zhi Xuan’s shadow remained still, like the surface of undisturbed water. After a moment, the giant resumed dragging its chains, continuing its aimless journey through the mist, leaving behind a heavy, fishy scent of death.

  Zhi Xuan slowly removed his hand from Zhu Qinglan’s lips, though he did not let her go. He withdrew from the shadows and reappeared on the path, watching the giant’s back disappear into the fog.

  "That giant," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice laced with high vigilance. "I felt that those coffins are trapped souls, but why is it transporting them like that?"

  Zhu Qinglan panted after being released, her face pale. She gripped Zhi Xuan’s sleeve with trembling hands. "Zhi Xuan, I really can't stand it here."

  Zhi Xuan looked down at her pale face. He could feel her soul was unstable, perhaps due to the prolonged exposure to the illusion pavilion. He merged back into the shadows and reappeared in a small rocky alcove.

  "Sit," Zhi Xuan said, leaning her against the wall. "Calm yourself first."

  Zhu Qinglan still held Zhi Xuan’s hand while she patted her waist to retrieve a spiritual pill. It was a soul-cleansing pill from the Ancient Zhu Clan. She swallowed it quickly and began to meditate, though one hand still gripped Zhi Xuan’s robe tightly.

  Color slowly returned to her face, though the furrow in her brow didn't vanish entirely. In her meditation, she still fought the remnants of the pavilion's whispers trying to pull her back into despair.

  Zhi Xuan turned his gaze toward the mist outside the alcove. His eyes narrowed, trying to analyze the origin of the coffin-dragging giant. "Those chains... their patterns are similar to those binding the bronze coffin in the valley," he thought. "The Secret Realm of Ocean Chaos... even the Underworld River flows here. What exactly happened in this realm?"

  Zhu Qinglan took a long breath, her tense shoulders finally relaxing. She opened her eyes to find Zhi Xuan standing with his back to her, watching the fog with unshakable authority. A strange sense of security washed over her—something she had never felt even under the protection of her clan elders.

  "Zhi Xuan," she called out softly.

  Zhi Xuan turned slightly, showing his sharp profile in the dim light. "Feeling better?"

  "Yes... thank you," Zhu Qinglan stood up, but did not release her hold on his robe. "I never expected that as the Holy Maiden of the Zhu Clan, I would become a burden to someone in this Secret Realm."

  "The 'someone' you speak of is your Dao Protector, Holy Fairy," Zhi Xuan replied flatly, turning fully to face her. "Naturally, I will protect your path of cultivation. That pavilion will indeed cause those with doubts to lose their way. What exactly do you doubt in your heart?"

  Zhu Qinglan was stunned; Zhi Xuan’s question struck the softest point of her soul. She turned her head away, her silk-like hair partially obscuring eyes that were now clouded with conflicting emotions.

  "Doubt?" Zhu Qinglan murmured bitterly. "The Zhu Clan worships me as the embodiment of the Untainted Ice Lotus. From birth, I have been like a celestial being, my path predetermined—and that ambition made me view the world as a chessboard I might one day conquer."

  She sighed, her cold breath crystallizing in the grey air. "But in that pavilion, I saw the real me. I saw a girl afraid of silence, who hated being worshipped but never loved, and most doubtfully... whether this path of cultivation I walk is truly mine, or just a script written by the ancestors?"

  "And when I saw you in that pavilion," Zhu Qinglan looked up, meeting Zhi Xuan’s sapphire gaze, touching the Xiangu Bu Yao in her hair. "You left, turning your back on me without looking. And look at this Bu Yao... I always felt I was close to you, but in that pavilion, it felt so far away..."

  She looked away again, clearing her throat to regain her composure. "Just... make sure I get out of here safely. You will protect my path, won't you?"

  Zhi Xuan looked intently at Zhu Qinglan, seeing how her fingertips trembled as she touched the hair ornament he had given her. There was a heavy silence between them, the kind born not of a void, but of a mountain of words left unsaid.

  "This Zhi is a man who keeps his word," Zhi Xuan said, his voice low and echoing off the alcove walls. "As long as this thread of karma remains tied, and as long as you walk under the same destiny as I, my sword will cleave through any mist that obstructs you."

  He took a step forward, causing Zhu Qinglan to look up. Zhi Xuan raised his hand and slowly tucked a strand of hair behind the Holy Maiden's ear—a gesture so human in a world full of practitioner cruelty.

  "In that pavilion, the back you saw was merely a shadow of your fear of being left behind," Zhi Xuan stated, withdrawing his hand afterward. "But here, I am before you. I will not step forward until you are ready."

  Zhu Qinglan felt warmth spread from Zhi Xuan’s fingertips to her heart. She nodded slowly, offering a faint, sincere smile. "I am ready. Besides, perhaps that giant is the key to escaping this mist."

  Zhi Xuan nodded. He moved his hand, waving it as ancient runes instantly surrounded them. The runes shot into their respective robes, cloaking them and suppressing their spiritual fluctuations to the point where they were nearly undetectable.

  "This is the Silent Shroud," Zhi Xuan said, without needing to explain its origin. "It allows us to walk unnoticed, at least within six zhang of an opponent."

  Zhu Qinglan lifted her sleeve, looking at herself, feeling strangely silent. "This technique... high-level concealment formation. How did you learn it?"

  "I don't use it often," Zhi Xuan replied, looking toward the exit of the alcove. "Walk half a step ahead of me, so I can see you and not lose my sense of your location."