Xuanheng said nothing.
His half-illusory, half-solid figure stood amid the formation light, flickering in and out.
Cui Shaolin did not press him either; his gaze merely fell on Sikong Lanyue.
The hollow in Sikong Lanyue's chest remained. Though he used his mighty True Yuan to forcibly suppress it, his life force still poured away like water bursting through a breached dike.
If they delayed another moment, he truly might die and have his Dao vanish.
"Fellow Daoist Xuanheng."
Cui Shaolin's voice rose again.
"If he dies, I can still say that he was killed by Jiutian Xuanye. But... what about you, Fellow Daoist?"
At those words, Xuanheng's eyelid twitched violently.
Under the gray-white glow of the formation, his expression grew even uglier.
"Cui Shaolin, are you forcing this poor Daoist's hand?"
"You jest, Fellow Daoist."
Cui Shaolin's expression was calm. "I am merely reminding you, Fellow Daoist, that Sikong Lanyue cannot die. At the very least... he cannot die here."
Xuanheng fell silent. Setting aside the camaraderie of fellow disciples, Sikong Lanyue's status within the Heavenly Palace was indeed transcendent.
If he watched him die without lifting a hand, and the sect learned of it, the consequences could easily be imagined.
But if he acted now, what Cui Shaolin had just said was not without reason either.
At that thought, his gaze fell on Sikong Lanyue.
Seeing that the other man was hanging by a thread, after a brief moment, Xuanheng gave a cold snort.
"This poor Daoist will only act once."
As soon as the words fell, without waiting for Cui Shaolin's reply, Xuanheng's hands were already forming seals at lightning speed.
His figure swayed, and his half-illusory, half-solid body actually condensed several degrees in an instant.
At the same time, deep within the formation, a dim ancient-bronze glow