The whispers within the cauldron still echoed, that cry of "Awaken" driven into the bone like a nail. Chen Wuya did not move. He kept his breathing shallow, but his fingers had already closed around the mechanism vial at his waist.
The wind stirred.
It was not the kind of wind that blew in from the cave mouth, but a chaotic current that curled up from below. The energy storm he had previously twisted into a tornado with the Misform Domain was now beginning to Backflow, as though something were sucking it back in. The air ripped apart with a piercing shriek, and loose stones exploded into powder three feet above the ground.
Mo Feng rolled out from the side, clutching half a broken mechanism rod, his face pale. "The remaining energy of the Black Iron Pivot is backfiring! The airflow throughout the entire Devil's Den has gone haywire!"
Before he finished speaking, a fierce gust rushed at them, forcing him back two steps. Chen Wuya raised a hand, and the force of Misaligned Pressure instantly spread out, forming an invisible barrier before him. The storm slammed into it, its pressure shed layer by layer into the ground. The rock strata cracked, spiderweb fissures spreading rapidly.
He stared at the Myriad Demons Cauldron.
The cracks on its surface, once suppressed by golden flames, were beginning to widen again. Purple fire no longer surged forth; in its place, leaping arcs of golden lightning crackled along the edges of the cracks. Each flash made the cauldron shudder, its metal releasing a groan beneath an unbearable burden.
This was not a sign of repair. It was the prelude to collapse.
The cult leader lay sprawled on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he braced both hands against the