The door beneath the old house collapsed completely.
Black mist surged through the gap, only to be forcibly pressed back by the golden light in Xu Zhihan's palm. The prostrate shadows screamed, but not one could cross the threshold.
Lu Wenchuan supported Xu Zhihan with one hand and held his blade in the other. Thunderfire spread beneath his feet, holding back the ground as it continued to crack.
"Can you still walk?"
Xu Zhihan kept his eyes closed, his voice low. "Can you ask a different question?"
Lu Wenchuan gritted his teeth and smiled. "Fine. Would you rather I help you walk or carry you?"
Xu Zhihan opened his eyes and looked at him.
His gaze was ice-cold.
Lu Wenchuan immediately said, "Help you walk it is."
Xu Zhihan tried to push him away, but the moment he raised his hand, a sharp pain shot through his palm.
The divinity fragment was merging with his soul.
This body was too weak and struggled to bear it. Cold sweat seeped from Xu Zhihan's temples, and his fingertips were growing cold.
Lu Wenchuan noticed and stopped joking.
He half supported, half guided Xu Zhihan back toward the stone steps.
Behind them, the sounds of collapse drew closer.
The thing beyond the door refused to be shut away again. Black mist surged at them several times, only to be driven back by Lu Wenchuan's Thunderfire.
The wound on Lu Wenchuan's palm was still bleeding, and the old injury on his wrist had split open too.
Yet his blade remained steady.
Xu Zhihan glanced at him.
"Your hand."
Lu Wenchuan failed to catch his meaning. "What?"
"Do you still want it?"
Lu Wenchuan smiled. "For now."
Xu Zhihan frowned and raised a finger, pointing through the air.
Most of the black markings on Lu