The Greenstone Plain collapsed completely behind them. As the final Meridian Stone Pillar shattered, the ancient town was swallowed whole into a massive fissure in the earth. Cang Yaochen dragged the Dharma carriage he had seized from the Sacred Ground's deacon, treading with uneven steps across the red soil. The sandstorm was blinding, biting into his flesh like countless tiny blades.
He was bare-chested. The gashes on his spine, torn open by cross-bow bolts, were still oozing blood. The crimson trailed down his waist and seeped into his waistband; when the wind blew, it turned into a sticky, visceral mess against his skin. With every step he took, the piercing wound in his thigh throbbed and tore open anew. He looped the hauling rope tightly over his shoulder, the tension carving a deep, dark purple welt into his flesh.
Inside the carriage, Jiang Li huddled within a pile of sheepskin rugs. The battle in the ancient town had nearly drained her magic, leaving the blood-qi in her body parched. She watched Cang Yaochen from behind; his silhouette swayed in the wind and sand, looking as though it might collapse at any moment.
"Cang Yaochen, stop," Jiang Li shouted, her voice raspy and strained.
Cang Yaochen ignored her. He hauled the carriage another dozen meters until they crested a small mound. Only then did he abruptly release the rope. His body swayed unsteadily before he slumped down onto the sandy ground.
His breathing was heavy and ragged. In his hand, he clutched a grimy leather flask.
"Drink it," he said, thrusting the flask toward her.
It was essence-blood he had scavenged from the Return-to-Void Tomb—the same blood the Sacred Ground used to nourish that stone statue—mixed with his own Buddhist blood.
Jiang Li didn't take it. She stared at the wound on his shoulder—a chunk of flesh torn away while he was shielding her from the Shadow Spirits. The jagged edges of white bone were still visible beneath the gore.
"Cang Yaochen, does this make you feel particularly satisfied?" Jiang Li stared at him. "You're intentionally letting me watch you throw your life away for me. You're making me owe you on purpose. Do you want something from me?"
Cang Yaochen's hand was trembling, his muscles cramping from the pain. Suddenly, he let out a laugh—a low, jarring chuckle that made his shoulders quake. He lunged forward, pressing his blood-stained face close to hers.
"Li'er, you're right."
As he spoke, he used his sand-covered hand to grip Jiang Li's chin firmly. His strength was immense, as if he meant to crush the bone.
"Of course I want something from you. I want you to belong only to me. This has nothing to do with that dull monk."
He pointed to the bloody hole in his thigh, the purple light in his pupils nearly erupting.
"If you hurt, I hurt. If you live, I get to look at you a little longer. If you feel you owe me something, then treat me a little better."
Jiang Li snatched the flask from his hand and took a massive gulp. "You're a madman. A truly, deeply sick madman." She wiped her mouth, a trace of candid realization finally appearing in her eyes.
"My Lord... My Lord, save me..."
A screeching sound of grinding metal drifted from behind the carriage. A-Mu was splayed on the sand. His mechanical left hand was completely deformed; the sound of misaligned gears grinding echoed far across the wasteland.
Cang Yaochen turned around. The faint trace of tenderness he had shown Jiang Li vanished instantly. He stood up and limped toward A-Mu, step by step.
"A-Mu, back in the pharmacy... your directions were quite professional, weren't they?"
Cang Yaochen stood over him, looking down. With a swift motion of his right hand, he scooped up A-Mu's mangled mechanical arm.
"I... I really just wanted to save lives..." A-Mu squeezed out tears of pain, his remaining left eye shrinking to a pinprick.
"Saving lives? Something like the God-Sealing Spike... even an outer-sect Elder of the Tai-Chu Sword Sect wouldn't know its purpose. Not only did you know to pull it, you knew to hand the fragment to the Demon Seed afterward?"
Cang Yaochen exerted sudden force.
CRACK! The mechanical arm was twisted into three pieces.
"AAAAAH!" A-Mu thrashed wildly on the ground.
"Cang Yaochen, stop!" Jiang Li shouted.
With a backhanded tear, Cang Yaochen violently ripped the mechanical arm clean off A-Mu's shoulder. A cluster of eerie blue flames flickered at the stump.
"You aren't human." Cang Yaochen crouched down, staring intently at A-Mu's tightly shut right eye. His voice became dangerously slow. "You belong to that 'Old Blind Man' from the Burial Soul Reef, don't you? How many years did he have you wait there? Just to wait for the Demon Seed to awaken?"
A-Mu stopped thrashing. He lay on the ground as a viscous blue liquid seeped from his right eye. His voice changed, becoming cold and hard like grinding stones. "Heh heh... The Holy Monk is indeed the Holy Monk... Master said... he is at the Burial Soul Reef... waiting for you with a great gift. If you want the third fragment, we shall see if the Demon Girl is willing to pick up those old bones of hers and piece them back together, one by one."
Cang Yaochen sneered, tossing the severed limb aside.
"Since he's in such a hurry to die, I'll oblige him."
He returned to the front of the carriage. Using what little magic he had left, he formed a hand seal and pressed it against the ground. The flat wasteland suddenly began to shrink back like receding waves—the Shrinking Earth technique.
...
Two days later.
The sandstorm gradually died down. The dry heat of the air vanished, replaced by a salty, pungent dampness.
There was no more road ahead.
A pitch-black sea lay stretched across the horizon. The water was as thick as ink. As the waves crashed against the reefs, they produced a heavy clanging sound—the sound of metal striking metal.
A crescent moon hung in the sky, casting a light over the dead sea that made it look like a massive, rusted iron plate.
"We're here."
A-Mu slumped on the carriage, his single eye fixed on several dark shapes out at sea. "That is the Burial Soul Reef. All the shattered artifacts from the war ten thousand years ago are down there. My Master is waiting."
Cang Yaochen stood on the shore, gazing at the black water. He could feel the divine runes on his spine throbbing frantically.
He turned his head to look at Jiang Li. "Let's go, Li'er."
He reached out his hand. His unhealed wounds looked gruesome under the moonlight.
Jiang Li looked at his hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally placed hers in his. Their hands—one large, one small—locked tightly together. Stepping onto the creaking sands of the black water, they walked toward that silent, deathly sea.