The stone carvings at the passage entrance glistened with moisture. The instant Chen Wuya stepped onto them, a tremor rose from deep within the rock strata. Bai Zhi shifted on his back, her breath brushing the nape of his neck—faint, yet steady.
Mo Feng followed close behind, clutching a bronze compass whose needle trembled without pause. In a low voice, he said, "This path is alive. Walk too fast, and it'll collapse from the shaking."
Xuanming walked at the very front, his figure half-veiled by darkness. "Don't stop, and don't look back. Tidebone Path recognizes only footsteps moving forward."
Chen Wuya gritted his teeth and stepped onward. With every footfall, the skeletal ridges of rock beneath him seemed to contract, as though something were swallowing them down its throat. His legs were still weak, and the true qi within him was nearly depleted. He could only barely hold on through the Misaligned Divine Body.
"You said that out of ten who enter, nine die." He caught his breath. "Then how did the last one who made it out go mad?"
Xuanming did not turn around. "Because he heard the voice of the Heart Abyss. There are memories at the bottom of the pool. They drag out whatever a person fears most."
Mo Feng cut in, "So he didn't die to an outside force. He was scared to death by himself?"
"He was crushed by the truth." Xuanming's voice turned cold. "The dragon's ambergris you seek isn't medicine. It's a trial."
The passage grew narrower and narrower, forcing the three of them to move sideways. Fine patterns covered the rock walls, identical to those on the jade pendant Bai Zhi's mother had left behind. Chen Wuya reached out and brushed the markings, and warmth spread into his fingertips.
Suddenly, a fissure