With a burst of strength in both hands, Ye Zhen grabbed Wang Baimu by the neck with one hand, his entire body limp as noodles, and bound his feet with spirit energy before lifting him up.
With a casual swing, Ye Zhen swung Wang Baimu in a half-circle to the front of him.
Then, maintaining that posture with Wang Baimu held before him, Ye Zhen began speeding deeper into the underground passage.
At first, Wang Baimu had not understood Ye Zhen's intentions.
But when several tiny magma blossoms burst from cracks in the passage that had not yet fully solidified and exploded toward Ye Zhen, Ye Zhen wielded Wang Baimu's body like a shield, blocking the splattering magma.
The tiny droplets of magma landed on Wang Baimu's defenseless, uncontrollable skin. It began to sizzle and emit black smoke, charring within a single breath as piercing pain instantly shot through those spots.
Yet Wang Baimu's forehead was covered in cold sweat in an instant.
It was not sweat from pain, but from fright.
Ye Zhen's actions had made Wang Baimu understand his true intentions in a single moment.
Ye Zhen was using him as a path-clearing tool, using Wang Baimu as a shield.
No matter what dangers or mishaps lay ahead, the moment danger or an accident appeared, Ye Zhen would swing him, Wang Baimu, forward as a shield.
In Wang Baimu's current state, let alone the truly perilous depths of this passage, even a few more eruptions of magma or any of those seemingly insignificant dangers could kill him.
In short, there was only one thing to say.
Whenever danger came, Wang Baimu, this shield, would absolutely die before Ye Zhen.
And even if Wang Baimu, this shield, died, Ye Zhen might not necessarily die.
Wang Baimu could not use