Standing on the edge of the Domain’s heart, Bai Ning took the plunge.

  Smiling to herself, she pulled out her flying handkerchief. With a twist of her wrist, it unfolded and expanded into a dazzling white square, large enough to stand on. Like a carpet woven from moonlight.

  She leapt onto it in one fluid motion. Behind her, the Six-Trigram Crimson Parasol bloomed open with a soft whoosh, enveloping her in a protective globe of glowing red light.

  Her smile widened, eyes gleaming with anticipation as she began her descent into the heart of the Domain.

  The world vanished the moment Bai Ning entered the mist. Sound dulled, swallowed by the haze. The light dimmed, filtered into soft shades of gray and red by the drifting mist and the faint glow of her parasol. Even her spiritual sense faltered—still present, but muted, as if she were trying to feel qi through layers of gauze.

  At first, she expected it to continue all the way to the bottom of the crater, a blanket of fog clinging to the earth. But this mist didn’t rest on the ground—it floated, suspended in the air like a false sea, dense and heavy, hovering halfway down the crater like a cloud that had forgotten to rise.

  Then—suddenly—she passed through.

  Her flying handkerchief left the cloud of hovering mist with barely a ripple. As she zoomed downwards, the lingering mist dropped away beneath her, and the true floor of the crater came into view.

  She landed lightly. The flying handkerchief shrank and tucked itself back into her storage pouch as the ground crunched beneath her boots. Not stone, not soil—something else. Ash. Burned cinders and powdered bone, mingled into a fine, black grit. The light remained dim, as if the sky had been replaced with a sheet of smoked glass. The mist still lingered here, but faintly, curling through the air in sluggish, ghostly trails.

  She saw no ghosts or jiangshi anywhere. However, the floor of the crater was packed with bones—bones everywhere.

  She had known the Enigmatic Death Domain had formed atop the remnants of an ancient cultivator battlefield. But these weren’t the bones of humans. These were the bones of giants.

  Massive, pitch-black remains, half-buried in the ashen ground like the corpses of titans long dead. Ahead of her, an enormous arm jutted skyward, protruding from the earth at the elbow, as if frozen mid-thrust toward the surface. Its fingers—each as tall as she was—stretched in a silent plea, or perhaps a threat.

  To her left, a skull loomed sideways in the dirt, its hollow eye sockets large enough to walk through. It stared blindly into the mist-shrouded sky, lidless and unblinking. Nearby, the remnants of a shattered ribcage arched over a rise in the terrain, forming a grim, cathedral-like canopy. The spine connected to it lay sprawled outward, vertebrae like jagged stones marking a path through the dead earth.

  It was like standing in the lichyard of some ancient war between monsters and gods. As if she had just walked into their grave.

  Bai Ning turned slowly, taking in the scale of the desolation around her. Wonder stirred in her chest. This—this was why she loved being a cultivator. Who else could witness something so vast, so strange, so impossibly grand? Not even her master had ever described seeing something like this.

  She smiled faintly.

  She stepped forward, the Six-Trigram Crimson Parasol hovering above her like a silent guardian, casting a dim red halo across the ashen ground. Her banner remained rolled in her grip—loose, but ready. She wasn’t expecting danger, not yet, but she refused to be caught unprepared.

  The distance to the towering arm of bone vanished beneath her careful steps. When she reached it, she placed her palm against the surface.

  It was cold—unnaturally so. A chill that cut through her skin and straight into the marrow, as though she were touching a slab carved from glacial qi and raw ice. Her fingers numbed almost instantly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes and pushed a thread of qi into the massive structure. The response was sluggish, resistant. Her energy echoed back with strange distortions, like sound underwater. But she felt enough to confirm her suspicion.

  These were not bones. They had never belonged to anything living.

  What stood before her was the result of accumulated, crystallized yin qi—materialized over untold years and solidified into this shape by the Domain’s oppressive, death-laden atmosphere. It wasn’t the remains of a dead giant. It was a monument sculpted by resentment and time, shaped into the image of death itself. A grave marker with no corpse.

  She pulled her hand back, fingers tingling as sensation returned. Her eyes lingered on the towering phalanges reaching toward the sky.

  Bai Ning let her hand fall to her side as she turned away from the false bones, continuing deeper into the graveyard of giants.

  The further she walked, the more surreal the landscape became. Entire ribcages jutted from the ground like sunken ship hulls. A jawbone the size of a courtyard lay cracked and buried halfway in a slope, its teeth blackened and worn smooth by time. The air was quiet, with only faint ghostly shrieks from the outside filtering down here, dim and muted.

  She kept walking, steps light, craning this way and that to see if she could spot anything interesting. The very fact that there were no ghosts down here, in the heart of the Domain, told her that there was something else here; something that kept them away.

  That was when she heard it. Voices, faint and furtive, but undeniably real. These were people.

  She crouched low behind the shattered sternum of a colossal ribcage, pressing her fingers to the bone again—more for cover than for sensing. The voices grew clearer as she concentrated.

  “…I’m telling you, we need to move faster. The longer we linger, the more likely we’ll attract attention.”

  “We already have,” came the dry reply. “You just haven’t noticed.”

  Two figures emerged from the mist, walking carefully between towering bone pillars.

  It was a man and a woman, both clad in matching silver robes, the hems inscribed with gold-painted talismanic characters. Their skin gleamed with an unnatural sheen—burnished bronze, as if kissed by molten metal rather than sunlight. The man’s eyes flicked warily across the ruins, alert to movement. The woman, however, was still—focused. Searching. As if trying to sense something just beyond reach.

  More than their odd appearance, something about them tugged at Bai Ning’s memory.

  She frowned, watching from her concealment.

  It wasn’t their faces—she was certain she’d never seen them before. Both were too striking to forget. Nor was it their cultivation. Both of them were at the tenth stage of Qi Condensation, similar to her disguised qi.

  And yet, the feeling persisted. That strange sense of familiarity, subtle and unshakable.

  Then the woman spoke, voice sharp and direct.

  “Are you going to come out or not, Fellow Daoist? I can sense your presence quite clearly. Or should we take your silence to mean you're planning an ambush?”

  Her eyes locked unerringly onto Bai Ning’s hiding place.

  No point in hiding now. With a quiet sigh, Bai Ning rose and stepped out from behind the bone wall. Her parasol unfurled fully with a faint shimmer, its protective aura intensifying into a brighter, denser glow.

  The man reacted instantly—his stance shifting, left foot sliding forward, hands raised, muscles coiled like a spring ready to launch. He looked ready to tackle her on the spot.

  The woman, however, relaxed visibly. Whoever she had expected, it wasn’t Bai Ning.

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  She lifted her hands in a formal salute, a smile curving her lips. “Well met, fellow Daoist. I am Yan Qixue, and this is my dao companion, Yan Liang. We are disciples of the Golden Marrow Sect. And yourself?”

  The Golden Marrow Sect. That explained the sense of familiarity. Bai Ning let her guard lower ever so slightly.

  The Golden Marrow Sect, like her own Greater Dharma Sect, was a minor regional sect—small, stable, and specialized. Their reputation was solid. Unlike her sect, which focused on facilitating trades and tool refinement, the Golden Marrow Sect produced body cultivators. They offered their services as guards, mercenaries, bodyguards, and demon hunters, mostly to merchants and rural settlements in need of protection.

  She had even met their patriarch once, back when she was a child and he had visited her parents at the sect headquarters. Their two sects maintained friendly relations. They weren’t competitors, and their specializations complemented each other well.

  Still, this was the first time Bai Ning had encountered practicing body cultivators since she herself had stepped onto the path of cultivation.

  Body cultivators, as the name implied, refined their physical form instead of relying on spiritual tools or techniques. It was an older, harder path—true to the origins of cultivation. The first cultivators, after all, had been mortal martial artists who discovered qi and used it to enhance their bodies. That legacy had all but faded in the modern era, replaced by spirit cultivation, tools, talismans, and refined arts.

  Body cultivation remained rare for good reason. It was grueling, the breakthroughs were difficult, and the rewards inconsistent. A body cultivator might fight above their level—crossing half a realm or more—but they advanced far slower. Most never made it to Core Formation. It was simply too hard.

  In fact, the Golden Marrow Sect was known to have no members above Foundation Establishment, though they were all trained martial artists. Even her Greater Dharma Sect could boast a Core Formation elder—at least technically. Master Mo Jian only returned to the sect twice a year to let her visit her parents. He was more of a wandering immortal than a true sect elder.

  As for herself? Bai Ning knew no martial arts. None. Hand her a sword, and she’d likely just flail at the air. She was sure even Master Mo didn’t know any martial arts either.

  But these two? They would.

  She would have to treat them as if they were peak Qi Condensation realm cultivators. Their physical strength alone would more than make up the difference.

  She returned their salute, hands raised with fingers touching, palms to her chest.

  “I am Bai Ning, of the Greater Dharma Sect. Well met, fellow Daoists.” Her gaze flicked briefly between them. “You’ve come deep into the Domain. Are you searching for something?”

  Yan Qixue lowered her hands, her smile clam and steady. “We are. We've been tasked with collecting Umbral Beads—or at least confirming the rumors that they're easier to find near the heart of the Domain.”

  Bai Ning raised an eyebrow. “Easier to find near the heart? I hadn’t heard that before… but in hindsight, it makes sense.”

  Yan Liang gave a low grunt, his posture easing slightly though he remained alert. “Our patriarch heard the rumor from a trusted source and sent us to investigate. If Umbral Beads can be harvested consistently, instead of relying on luck, it could become a regular expedition for our sect.”

  “I see.” Bai Ning tilted her head thoughtfully. “Forgive me for asking, but—is it wise to share such information so freely with an outsider like me?”

  Yan Qixue laughed lightly. “It’s not much of a secret, Sister Bai Ning. If the rumor proves true, the news will spread soon enough. Besides…” Her smile softened just slightly. “I’ve heard of the Greater Dharma Sect. You may not be wearing sect robes, but I recall the patriarch and matriarch bear the Bai surname, and their daughter is named Bai Ning.”

  So that explained their unusual friendliness.

  Bai Ning gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “I’m not here for Umbral Beads at the moment, though I wouldn’t mind seeing how you find them.”

  She hesitated briefly, then continued, “Have you come across any Soul Stones, though? My master sent me to search for them. That’s why I ventured this deep as well.”

  “Soul stones…” Yan Liang echoed, casting a glance toward Yan Qixue before shaking his head. “This is the first time I’ve even heard the term. I’m afraid we’ll have to disappoint you.”

  “No matter,” Bai Ning said, though her voice carried a note of quiet disappointment. For a moment, she’d hoped they might have found something—anything—that could point her in the right direction.

  Silence lingered for a few heartbeats before Yan Qixue broke it.

  “How about we work together, Sister Bai Ning? The heart of the Domain is bound to be dangerous. We haven’t run into anything too threatening yet, but that won’t last forever. If you're after Soul Stones, and we’re after Umbral Beads, and our paths align… it makes sense to travel together. Fewer surprises that way.”

  Even Yan Liang gave a nod. “We won’t slow you down. We’re not asking to be protected either. Since we’re heading in the same direction, we might as well have someone reliable at our backs.”

  Bai Ning studied them both, silent. Their postures were open, their tones level. If they were lying, they were doing an excellent job of hiding it—but something told her they weren’t. They weren’t being overly friendly, just honest.

  After a moment, she gave a single nod.

  “All right. We’ll travel together—for now.”

  She didn’t voice the second half of her thought: that at the first hint of betrayal, her Golden Silk Dragon Banner would tear them apart. But that, she assumed, went without saying.

  Her barrier remained active, her parasol overhead casting its muted crimson glow. She was no longer the na?ve girl who had first entered the Domain and placed too much faith in kindness. Not after meeting Ge Xiang.

  Yan Qixue and Yan Liang returned her nod. Without a word, they moved deeper into the crater.

  They traveled in a loose triangle—Yan Qixue at the front, Yan Liang on the left flank, Bai Ning covering the rear. With each step down the ashen slope, the yin qi thickened in the air, and the number of bones around them grew. Soon, there was almost no ground left to walk on—only massive bones, sprawling over one another like petrified serpents, half-buried and twisted into the earth.

  They climbed over the jagged edge of a femur, leapt across the gaps of a gargantuan ribcage, and scrambled up the side of a colossal skull. There, they paused briefly to rest before continuing onward, weaving between bones that jutted from the earth like shattered spears.

  They spoke little. The oppressive stillness of the place discouraged conversation.

  Bai Ning remained alert, senses stretched wide, her grip firm on the handle of her tightly furled banner. Her parasol floated above, casting its halo of crimson light like a warning flare to any curious spirit.

  But nothing came. No ghosts accosted them. No jiangshi crept from the shadows. Only the ever-present mist remained—thin, clinging, and watchful, as though it were breathing with them.

  After perhaps an hour of cautious descent, they saw it.

  Rising from the slope ahead was a skull—massive, half-buried, and tilted as if it had collapsed in an eternal slumber. Cracks veined its surface, and broken fangs jutted from its jaw like shattered sabers. The bone was black as onyx, corroded in places, and mottled with fossil-like textures that barely resembled true bone anymore.

  From the deep hollow of one eye socket, a soft glow pulsed—cool, steady, and blue-white, like a star trapped in bone. They all paused, gazing up and stretching their spiritual senses as far as they would go, trying to understand what they were seeing.

  Finally, Yan Qixue stirred. “I can’t quite make it out, but...”

  “It feels like a formation,” Yan Liang finished.

  Bai Ning nodded. She had come to the same conclusion, though without certainty.

  Exchanging glances, they moved closer, each step toward the skull making the light stronger, casting long shadows across the socket’s inner curve.

  As they neared, Bai Ning flicked her storage pouch. Her flying tool emerged and unfurled into a full-sized carpet beneath her feet. She turned to offer assistance, but both Yan Qixue and Yan Liang had already activated their techniques. Wheels of flame bloomed beneath their feet, spinning rapidly as they rose into the air.

  Bai Ning followed on her flying handkerchief, watching with interest.

  Technically, only Core Formation cultivators and above could fly unsupported. Techniques for flight existed, but they were notoriously inefficient, draining qi at an unsustainable rate. That was why most cultivators relied on tools or talismans. She supposed it was different for Body Cultivators.

  They ascended, hovering before the skull’s eye socket.

  Up close, their suspicions were confirmed. The glow emanated from a formation—a delicate, ancient, and still active web of shimmering light in the shape of a dome. Half-concealed beneath dust and shadow, a bundled skeleton rested in the hollow of the eye socket, robed in tattered remnants. The formation had shielded him from scavengers, but not from death.

  Yan Qixue leaned in, eyes narrowing as she traced the arcs of light threading through the air. “What a remarkable protective array. For it to still be active in this environment…”

  Yan Liang gave a dismissive grunt. “Not that remarkable. He’s still dead.”

  Qixue shot her dao companion a dry look, voice tinged with exasperation. “At least pretend to show some respect, Liang. I couldn’t set up a formation like this even on my best day. It’s a shame we don’t have the time to dismantle it properly. Who knows what a cultivator who made it this far might’ve left behind?”

  “We made it this far,” Yan Liang said, not missing a beat.

  Bai Ning cut in before the back-and-forth could spiral further. “We haven’t been attacked since entering the crater. Looks like he wasn’t given that courtesy.”

  “Indeed,” Qixue murmured, glancing once more at the corpse. “Makes you wonder—what was the difference?”

  “A shame that we’ll have to leave it behind.” She turned slightly, giving Bai Ning a sidelong glance. “Unless…”

  Bai Ning hesitated.

  She did know a method for unraveling formations—it was imperfect, unguaranteed, and difficult to execute under pressure. However, it was something her master had taught her, along with the art of laying and slipping past such traps. Still, she hadn't offered it yet for good reason.

  Yan Qixue read her expression with ease. “Ah, worry not, Sister Bai Ning. Since you’ll be doing the heavy lifting, it’s only fair the lion’s share of whatever’s inside goes to you. Liang and I can handle guard duty while you work.”

  That hadn’t been her concern. But Qixue’s answer was telling in itself.

  Bai Ning drifted closer to the skull’s eye socket, stopping just short of the shimmering barrier that sealed it. The formation pulsed faintly beneath her gaze, veined with thin threads of spiritual energy that twisted like living roots.

  She couldn’t deny her curiosity. Whatever lay beyond this seal, it was bound to be valuable.

  Her companions had proven themselves competent so far. Cautious, but not cowardly. Calculating, but not treacherous—yet. She would stay sharp. But for now, her focus shifted.

  Time to see how much she remembered from Master Mo Jian’s lectures on formation breaking.