The blue light barrier shook violently. The frenzied attacks of Lei Wanhe and the other two crashed against the seal like towering, thunderous waves, sending cracks spreading across it like a spiderweb. Spiritual pressure raged inside the hall, and fragments of stone rained down. Enduring the agonizing sensation of his meridians tearing apart and the sword qi eating into him, Han Li staggered toward the dust-covered stone door of the most inconspicuous side hall, like a moth rushing into a flame.
"Open!" he growled. Gathering his remaining spiritual power, he drove the Gloom Fang Dagger into the gap around the door with a flash of dark light! Rather than forcing his way through, he precisely pried at the decaying mechanism inside. With a sharp crack, the stone door slid open a narrow gap, and a cold gust carrying dust and an ancient scent rushed into his face.
Without hesitation, Han Li slipped inside and struck a protruding stone on the inner wall with his palm! With a rumble, the stone door swiftly closed, shutting out most of the deafening thunder and murderous intent outside. He leaned against the icy door, gasping violently, cold sweat soaking his robes. Blood streamed from the wound in his left shoulder, while Lei Wanhe's sword qi rampaged through his body. His golden core had dimmed; his oil was nearly spent, his lamp about to gutter out.
Desperation tempered the will; within the jaws of death, he sought a chance to live.
He swiftly surveyed his surroundings. The stone hall was small, only ten zhang across. Its four walls were bare, and thick dust blanketed the floor. Only a damaged octagonal stone platform stood in the center, covered in indistinct runes. It seemed to have once served as the foundation of an array, but now all