Just as the fighting on Lu Wujing's side was reaching its fiercest, deep underground in another part of the island, a medium-built cultivator stood in a broad passageway, holding a compass in his hand.
At this moment, five or six corpses lay strewn haphazardly on the ground around him. Judging from their clothing, they were unmistakably guards of the Tianli Clan.
Those corpses all had their eyes open, but there was no fear in them, no shock—only utter calm. It was clear that when death had come for them, these people had not reacted at all before losing their lives on the spot!
The only cultivator still alive, the one holding the compass, was none other than the man who had spoken with Lu Wujing earlier outside the stone chamber where the teleportation array was located. His name was Zhang Du'an.
In front of him, the passage seemed to have reached its end. The reason it was only "seemed" was that the way ahead had indeed been sealed off where he faced, but not by a stone wall. Instead, it was barred by several dozen enormous railings.
These railings looked as if they had been forged from ten-thousand-year refined iron, each one as thick as an adult's calf, continuously giving off a cold, eerie gleam. Yet through the gaps between the bars, it was impossible to clearly see the scenery behind them.
That was because these railings were covered with thick vines. The vines had no leaves; their bare bodies bore nothing but thorn-like fine branches and exposed brown, cracked bark, giving off an extremely ferocious impression.
The thick vines filled the gaps between the bars. At first, they had seemed like dead things, firmly clinging to the refined-iron railings, but ever since Zhang Du'an began trying to break through,