The downward tunnel grew colder with every step, the air thick and stale, as if the ruins themselves had been holding their breath for centuries. Wei Chen's black sun brand pulsed in rhythm with the faint gold-black glow ahead, a slow heartbeat that tugged at his core. Lin Xue's hand stayed tight in his, her frost qi a steady anchor against the pulling cold. Su Mei walked close on his other side, demonic essence flaring whenever the shadows deepened.
The whispers returned as soon as the tunnel widened—soft at first, then louder, echoing from the stone walls like voices trapped inside the rock.
Wei Chen… you feel it, don't you? The door remembers you…
Wei Chen's jaw tightened. "It's speaking through the walls now. Like the whole ruin is its mouth."
Lin Xue's voice was calm steel. "Then we don't listen. We burn it quieter."
Su Mei squeezed his arm. "Together. Always."
They stepped into a vast underground chamber, the true heart of the black altar. The floor sloped into a circular depression, and at its center stood the source—a massive obsidian coffin, taller than three men, its surface cracked in a web of gold-black fissures. The glow came from within, pulsing brighter as they approached. Ancient chains of frozen qi bound it to the floor, but many links had rusted away, leaving only faint frost.
The air here was heaviest, pressing down like deep water. The whispers rose into a chorus, coming from every direction at once.
Come closer… touch the door… say your name and be free…
Wei Chen stopped at the edge of the depression. "This is it. The real prison."
Lin Xue studied the chains. "These bindings are older than any sect. Holy and demonic wards mixed together. Someone powerful sealed it long ago."
Su Mei circled slowly, crimson eyes narrowed. "And it's waking because of your brand. The Nine-Suns fire is the key it's been waiting for."
The coffin pulsed again, brighter. A single crack widened slightly, gold-black mist seeping out like breath.
Wei Chen felt the pull strongest here—his overload stirring, Yang fire rising to meet the cold call. He took a steadying breath. "We reinforce the seal. Right here, right now."
They formed their triangle again, kneeling in a tight circle facing the coffin. Hands linked, foreheads almost touching. The shared flame ignited instantly—golden center, frost edges, crimson threads weaving through.
Wei Chen guided the flow. "Pour everything in. Make the barrier unbreakable."
Lin Xue's cool essence flowed first, wrapping the coffin in new layers of frost chains. Su Mei's demonic qi followed, corroding the escaping mist, turning it to harmless vapor. Wei Chen's Nine-Suns fire blazed last, sinking into the obsidian surface and lighting the cracks with pure gold.
The coffin shuddered. The whispers turned angry, overlapping.
No… you can't… Wei Chen belongs here…
But the combined essence held. The cracks narrowed, mist retreating. The glow dimmed to a faint ember.
Lin Xue exhaled slowly, silver hair damp with effort. "It's working. The chains are strengthening."
Su Mei's grip tightened on Wei Chen's hand. "I feel it too. Our bond is rooting deeper."
Wei Chen nodded, warmth spreading through his meridians. The overload quieted fully for the first time since the ruin began. A soft breakthrough ripple passed through them all—small, but solid. Their shared flame had grown another layer.
For a moment, silence fell. Only their breathing and the distant drip of water somewhere far above.
Then the coffin spoke—not in whispers, but in a single clear voice that vibrated through the stone. It used Wei Chen's own tone, calm and roguish.
You think sealing me stops me? I've tasted your name… and soon I'll wear it…
The obsidian surface rippled like water. A handprint appeared on the inside, pressing outward—pale fingers spreading against the stone.
At the same moment, shouts echoed from the tunnel behind them. Torchlight flickered at the entrance. The righteous hunters had caught up.
"Found them! Surround the chamber!"
Wei Chen stood, helping Lin Xue and Su Mei to their feet. The new strength hummed in their veins, ready.
"Let them come," he said, fan snapping open with golden fire. "We're not running anymore."
Lin Xue's frost blades formed in her hands. Su Mei's demonic chains uncoiled like living shadows.
The coffin pulsed once more—weaker, but patient.
And deep inside, the handprint faded… waiting for the next disturbance.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2026
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