The answer: a way out of certain death

Xiang Su'an shuddered at those words and retched on the floor, but nothing came up. Only tears mingled with blood and grime streamed down his face.

Master Yu laughed without restraint, his laughter echoing through the dungeon. The prisoners in the other cells shrank into themselves, too frightened to make a sound.

When his laughter subsided, Master Yu swept his sleeves back and rose. Without another glance at Su'an, he left in satisfaction, leaving Su'an kneeling alone.

Before anyone realized it, ten days had quietly passed.

Over those ten days, Mo Chen had tried almost every method he could think of, circulating the Heavenly Cycle again and again in an attempt to break the seal. Yet the sea of qi in his dantian remained utterly still.

However, after that mischievous child mocked him to his face, Mo Chen had inadvertently stumbled upon a clue.

He discovered that when he flew into a rage, his blood and qi surged. If he then guided them with the true qi of martial arts, the suppressive force in his meridians loosened a fraction.

It weakened only a tiny bit, but at least he had a direction.

Still, surely he couldn't have someone point at his nose and curse him out every time he tried to break the seal?

That clearly wouldn't do. It was too stupid.

After grumbling inwardly, Mo Chen stopped cultivating, rose, and went over to the pear tree.

That day, with only his six remaining fingers, Mad Xiang played a flawless rendition of "Zhaojun Departs the Frontier."

Though his fingering was less nimble than before, the melody had gained a desolate poignancy that shook every listener to the core.

When the piece ended, Mo Chen brought over a stone slab and sat beside Mad Xiang.

Perhaps Mad Xiang felt that Mo