The water in the underground channel was cold.
As Xu Zhihan descended to the last rung of the iron ladder, his sole had barely touched the water when the Silver Nameplate flashed. Countless fine white threads lay in the water, like submerged hair, swaying gently with the current.
Lu Wenchuan stood eight paces away, his wrist held by the Red Line, his face pale. Blood had begun seeping from his shoulder wound too. He went no farther, gripping the ladder railing with his left hand until his knuckles turned white.
Xu Zhihan looked back at him.
"Don't move."
Lu Wenchuan took a breath. "Whatever you say."
"You'd better mean it."
Xu Zhihan stepped into the water.
The water reached his ankles, and the chill crept up his trouser legs. He did not spread his Divine Spark out to suppress the entire channel, keeping the golden light beneath his feet instead. With each step, the white threads on the water retreated a little to either side.
Song Zhixia's voice came through the comms amid heavy static.
"Xu Zhihan, don't get too close to the door. Your current position is already near the critical point."
Xu Zhihan did not stop.
Xie Wu's voice sounded from inside the narrow doorway.
"Now that you're here, does that mean he won't have to hurt anymore?"
Xu Zhihan ignored him.
The pale hand inside the narrow doorway still gripped the Red Line, whose other end cut deep into Lu Wenchuan's shadow. Xu Zhihan stopped an arm's length from the door and reached up to press down on the Red Line.
The Red Line was cold.
The instant he touched it, an image of Lu Wenchuan lying in the snow flashed before his eyes. The line at his wrist was severed, a piece of his chest was