They found the Niumowang two more times, and both times, the slippery bull managed to get away. If Mo Jian didn’t know better, he would have thought the little bull-fish was mocking them. But no—it couldn’t stay beneath the lava indefinitely. Whenever it surfaced for air, Mo Jian and Bai Ning were ready with the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding and the Five Elemental Binding Rings.

  Unfortunately for his pride, both of them were handily defeated by the demonic beast. He might have suspected Bai Ning of holding back—she had, after all, admitted to finding it cute—but after it bounced off his ding and nearly landed on her head, making her yelp and flail in panic, she’d lost all hesitation about killing it. Not that it helped. Mo Jian doubted this was a story he would ever recount with pride.

  Even Fan Mei’s cheer had dulled. She still played her guzheng to help locate the Niumowang, but now she did so with the single-minded, spiteful determination of a woman too stubborn to fail after investing so much time and effort. Whatever charm the creature once held for her seemed to be wearing thin.

  Worse yet, the huodous found the entire situation endlessly amusing. They weren’t truly intelligent—mere manifestations of the domain—but apparently they were clever enough to find the group’s repeated failures hilarious. They didn’t dare approach or attack, the memory of Bai Ning’s earlier massacre of their kind still painfully vivid, yet their yelps and barks had taken on a distinctly mocking quality. Mo Jian had read the phrase “a laugh like a bark” before, but this was the first time he was literally hearing one.

  Bai Ning shot an irritated look at the huodous circling above, their smoky forms writhing and twisting in mirth. The Horned Bull Demon King had once again slipped beneath the lava—and this time, it had taken the liberty of sticking its tongue out at them. Whatever fear it had shown before was long gone; the thing was clearly having the time of its life. Mo Jian couldn’t help but wonder just how sapient it was—sticking its tongue out hinted at an almost human sort of pettiness, if a childish one.

  “This isn’t working,” he said at last, voicing what they were all thinking as they watched the lava lake’s ripples settle after yet another failure.

  “Something like this shouldn’t be so hard, right?” Bai Ning asked, her voice edged with frustration.

  Fan Mei sighed—the long-suffering sigh of someone reconsidering every life choice that led her here. “No, it shouldn’t be. It’s not even rank five, but it’s already this troublesome. We may have to change our approach.”

  Mo Jian nodded. “I’ll dive into the lake and make as much noise as I can. Fairy Fan Mei, keep playing—maybe we can catch it in a pincer. Bai Ning will stay with you and strike if it surfaces again.”

  The idea had been simmering in his mind for a while, and now seemed as good a time as any to try it. Besides, it wasn’t as if Bai Ning could maintain her shielding for long if she dove in; he was clearly the better choice.

  Then, without waiting for confirmation—he was far too irritated by the huodous’ incessant laughter to bother—he dove straight into the magma.

  The azure barrier around his body held firm, protecting him from the heat and pressure, but even so, it was grueling. Moving forward felt like trying to tunnel through solid rock; the lava might be molten, but it was thick as syrup and fought every motion. Worse, his vision was useless. All he could see were searing reds and oranges, punctuated by flashes of white and purple that burned in his eyes like afterimages. He had to extend his spiritual sense as far as it would reach—which, in this environment, wasn’t very far.

  This was precisely why they hadn’t tried this earlier. It was a poor plan—but their clever one had failed, so he might as well give a stupid one a chance.

  When he judged he’d gone deep enough, Mo Jian summoned the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding. The treasure swelled in size until it loomed as large as their icy boat, then began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster—until the entire molten lake began to churn. The pressure roared in his ears; the lava twisted into a spiraling maelstrom of blazing red and gold. When the pull of the whirlpool began tugging even at his barrier, Mo Jian released the ding like a stone from a sling, letting it carve a burning path through the depths.

  There. If this didn’t rattle the heart of the domain, nothing would.

  He guided the ding with his mind, making it loop around him once it had gone far enough, sweeping as much ground as possible. He had no idea whether the Lake of Lamentation even had a bottom—being a naturally formed domain, it might well be endless—but their quarry would likely be near the surface. It still needed to breathe, after all.

  Aside from his own disturbance, the heart of the domain was eerily quiet. Beyond the slow slide of molten rock and the steady simmer of heat, the lake seemed almost peaceful. No other beings stirred in its depths; even the Niumowang wasn’t a true native, merely a fortunate trespasser nesting in a convenient place.

  Hmm. Maybe he’d been too harsh in calling this place useless. True, it served no real purpose—but there was a certain austere majesty in its existence, one he was slowly beginning to apprecia—

  —clearly, the Lava River did not appreciate that thought.

  A fin of molten rock, vast as a house, slammed into him.

  Mo Jian reeled, more startled than hurt. He quickly reinforced his barrier and summoned the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding back to his side, scanning the blazing depths. At this depth, there shouldn’t be any other creatures in the domain.

  A massive shape swam past him—too big and moving too fast to make out clearly. The wake of its passing sent coils of lava swirling, tugging at him, and his spiritual sense slid off its form like water off a duck’s back, unable to grasp it. Whatever it was, it clearly belonged here far more than he did.

  Mo Jian hesitated, debating whether to confront it or retreat, when another fin loomed from the molten expanse—this one slamming straight toward his head.

  The Heaven-Enshrouding Ding shot forward to intercept, expanding until it matched the fin in size. A muffled shockwave rippled outward from the impact, setting the lake’s depths churning once more. Mo Jian retaliated with a burst of silvery lightning from the ding, the energy spearing through the lava—but again, the creature was too fast. The fin vanished before the strike landed, and the vast shadow it belonged to slipped beyond the reach of his senses.

  All right. This was getting troublesome.

  Mo Jian summoned the ding again and this time rode it upward, determined to leave the depths behind. The vast shape came after him, striking from the flank to block his ascent. Mo Jian gritted his teeth and poured his qi into the ding, his azure barrier flaring with a deep, radiant blue. The fin collided with a ringing clang, the sound dull and heavy through the molten pressure. Something roared—a guttural, liquid sound of stone melting and lava boiling—but the barrier held, and Mo Jian forced his way through.

  He burst upward, shedding rivulets of magma from his barrier, and shot toward the icy boat above. Fan Mei and Bai Ning looked up at his approach, both confused and alarmed, their own protective barriers already flaring to full strength.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Below them, the lake heaved and rolled like a living thing, all trace of calm obliterated.

  Mo Jian reached them just in time—his azure light merging with Fan Mei’s pale white and Bai Ning’s burnished copper in a single, shimmering wall—before the entire lake erupted.

  An explosion of molten light and fire split the air like thunder. Lava geysered skyward in vast pillars, scattering blazing fragments that turned the sky into a storm of falling embers. The blast struck their barriers with the weight of a mountain; heat and pressure surged against them, making the air itself tremble. Mo Jian’s qi flared violently to hold the shield together, his ears ringing as the shockwave tore past.

  The three guided the icy boat upward through the blazing storm, qi intertwining as they rose—only halting when they were halfway to the cavern’s roof.

  Below them, the Lake of Lamentation roared. It seethed and churned like a wounded beast, the surface bulging outward before collapsing again in a heaving pulse. Then, with a sound like the world cracking open, it exploded a second time. However, this time, it wasn’t magma that erupted.

  A colossal serpent of molten rock uncoiled itself from the heart of the lake, veins glowing gold and white beneath its skin. It rose higher and higher until its blazing eyes met theirs on level ground in the air. The creature looked as though the lake itself had taken physical form—its scales were rivers of lava, its fins like jagged shards of obsidian trailing fire. A line of molten spines ran down its back, each one dripping liquid heat. Where claws should have been, long streaming fins undulated at its sides, slicing the air like fiery banners.

  It bellowed—a deep, liquid hiss, the grinding sound of mountains collapsing and molten stone scraping against itself. Its throat swelled, a blazing bulge traveling upward, gathering pressure.

  They barely had a moment to react.

  Mo Jian thrust out his hand, summoning the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding. The artifact expanded instantly, swelling to match the dragon’s size, interposing itself between the serpent and the boat.

  Fan Mei rose to her feet, her fingers flashing across her Melodious Jade-adorned Guzheng in a fierce, staccato rhythm. The sound rang like shattering glass—pure, cutting, and lethal. From the music burst a spectral warrior clad in flowing light, wielding a sword as tall as a tower. It descended in a single, devastating stroke toward the serpent’s neck. Beside her, Bai Ning—her expression tight with concentration—sent her copper shield hovering overhead. It expanded, layering her barrier over the others, wrapping the icy boat in a dome of shining metal light.

  The attacks struck at once.

  The lava serpent opened its jaws wide and vomited a torrent of molten fire onto the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding. The impact was cataclysmic. Flame and lightning collided, silver arcs streaking through the molten torrent as the ding strained against the inferno. The spectral warrior’s blade came down, biting into the serpent’s neck with a sound like tearing metal, molten rock splashing outward in vast sheets.

  The entire lake shook with the force of their qi. The shockwave followed next—crashing into the boat, rattling their bones, and sending rivers of molten light streaming upward like inverted rain. Through the glare, Mo Jian caught a glimpse of the serpent twisting, molten blood spilling from its wound. But even wounded, it did not falter. The lake seethed as it shrieked and lunged again. The Heaven-Enshrouding Ding met it head-on, intercepting the blow. The serpent’s molten fin scraped across its surface, shrieking like steel dragged across glass, sending a storm of sparks into the air.

  Seventh rank. Not a true dragon yet, but far too close for comfort. This was not a battle he would have chosen even at his best—certainly not while trapped in its lair, with only two late-stage Core Formation cultivators capable of fighting it.

  “We need to leave!” he shouted.

  Fan Mei gave a grim nod—she’d clearly come to the same conclusion. But Bai Ning’s eyes were fixed downward, her gaze wild. She leaned over the edge of the boat, following something through the haze and shimmering heat.

  “The Niumowang!” she cried, and before Mo Jian could stop her, she leapt.

  “Bai Ning!”

  He cursed, unable to move—still locked in a struggle with the lava serpent—but Fan Mei reacted instantly. Her fingers swept across her guzheng, and a dozen spectral warriors burst into existence. Half dove toward the serpent, their spectral weapons flashing as they intercepted its next strike; the other half shot after Bai Ning, their ghostly shields and nets unfurling in pursuit.

  Fan Mei’s voice trailed back to him, sharp and urgent. “I’ll get Junior Bai Ning! Brother Mo, keep that thing off us!”

  He cursed again, but forced his focus back. Fan Mei could protect Bai Ning—she always had. Someone had to keep the beast from killing them all. The serpent roared, and Mo Jian answered with bared teeth. He thrust his hand toward the ding, and its lid flew open. Dark clouds billowed into existence above them, black as ink, shot through with silver veins of lightning. The storm coalesced, condensed—then every bolt converged into one titanic spear of light.

  The heavens split as the lightning fell.

  It crashed into the serpent’s skull, yet the dragon shrugged it off, diving back beneath the surface, the only evidence of the strike a scorched trail of blackened scales left in its wake.

  Mo Jian wasn’t done. His qi surged again, and bolt after bolt of silver lightning hammered into the churning lake, sending geysers of molten sparks spiraling skyward. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Fan Mei hovering near Bai Ning, who was clutching something tightly to her chest.

  Then the lake began to move. At first, he thought it was just the serpent thrashing below. But then the entire surface began to drain in a slow, deliberate, and above all, circular manner. The lava spiraled inward, drawn toward a widening pit at the center of the lake.

  Mo Jian froze. The penny dropped.

  “Oh, hells,” he muttered.

  Abandoning all pretense of subtlety, he summoned the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding back to his side. The massive artifact hovered before him—black and blue, its squat base and carved legs gleaming in the hellish light.

  “Please work,” he muttered under his breath, half prayer, half plea.

  He gestured sharply. The lid detached, then began to grow—larger and larger, swelling until it scraped against the cavern walls. The ding itself shrank back to its normal size, hanging loyally at his side, while its titanic lid hovered above the lake. Then Mo Jian slammed it down. It fell like the hand of a god, sealing the molten pit as though clapping a lid over a boiling cauldron.

  The serpent roared below, and the lake detonated. Lava blasted upward, striking the underside of the lid with a deafening impact that shook the entire domain. The Heaven-Enshrouding Ding’s lid bucked and groaned under the pressure, glowing white-hot as it held back the eruption.

  Mo Jian poured his qi into it, every meridian in his body burning as he braced himself against the feedback. The air warped around him; sweat rolled down his face and hissed away into steam before it could fall.

  The lid began to rise—inch by inch—under the impossible force of the dragon’s breath.

  “Come on,” he growled through gritted teeth, azure light flaring around him like a heartbeat. “Not today.”

  Then, with a clarion cry from below, a dozen giant spectral warriors materialized beside him. They plunged their weapons into the lid, anchoring it in place with sheer will and sound. The pressure eased for a single, precious moment.

  Mo Jian seized it.

  He shoved, driving all his qi, all his intent, into the motion. The lid slammed down—once, twice—until, with a sound like the heavens cracking, it sealed the lake. The roar that followed was mingled fury and pain, but muffled and distant, trapped beneath the lid. The entire lake quivered, then stilled.

  Fan Mei flew up beside him, face pale but triumphant. Bai Ning hovered at her side, balanced on her green sword, clutching a small, wriggling bundle against her chest—the Niumowang.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Fan Mei said, glancing at the glowing lid below, where her spectral warriors still strained to hold it down. “We can only keep it sealed for so long.”

  Mo Jian exhaled, relief and exhaustion flooding through him. “Agreed.”

  Together, they wove their qi into a single radiant barrier that wrapped around the three of them like a cocoon of light. Then, with one unified push, they shot upward.

  As they passed the entrance to the Lake of Lamentation, Mo Jian gestured, and the lid of the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding, now reduced to its normal size, broke free of the lake and streaked after them, vanishing into his body. The world below shuddered. The dragon’s roar followed—a sound like a volcano giving birth to thunder—as the lake burst apart once more.

  They didn’t look back.

  Their combined aura tore through the air, through molten heat and stone and pressure, and they punched through the surface of the Lava River, and moments later, even through its false sky, bursting into open water. Their barrier repelled the sea’s crushing weight as they rocketed upward, qi blazing in a trail of blue, white, and copper light.

  And then, with a final surge, they erupted through the surface in a geyser of steam and seawater—three cultivators, scorched, breathless, and alive.