The tunnel sloped down at a steep grade, the polished black stone underfoot smooth from ages of heat and pressure.
The air grew thicker, heavier, not just with heat but with a kind of spiritual weight that pressed against Lin Tian's eardrums.
The Obsidian Map in his hand glowed steadily, painting their faces in shifting shades of orange and red as it charted their descent.
He led, with Yan Jiao a solid, reassuring presence at his shoulder, the Earth-Sunderer sword held ready across her body.
Xueya and Su Lan followed, their contrasting auras a quiet hum of ice and fire at his back. Yue Chan and Lu Cang brought up the rear, their footsteps nearly silent.
The deeper they went, the stranger the silence became. The distant roar of the battle above had vanished, swallowed by the mountain.
All he could hear was the scrape of their boots, the soft rustle of Yue Chan's silks, and his own breathing. And beneath it all, the deep, sub-audible thrum of the mountain's corrupted heart.
