Only one breath had passed. The lava pool did not wait for a second count. With a deafening roar, the glowing red liquid leaped high, forming a giant tongue of flame that looked like an Extreme Yang dragon newly awakened from an ancient slumber. Its heat wave was no longer merely burning; the Extreme Yang energy contained within it seemed to demand an exchange of lives.

  "Run, foolish monkey!" Ruo Xianxue hissed, her voice filled this time with genuine urgency.

  Zhi Xuan's hardened instincts, forged by years of living in the wilderness, took over. He no longer thought about losing his Seals or the legacy. All that existed was the boiling pain in his buttocks and right thigh. He gripped the Heavenly Devouring Cup and the Divine Cauldron tightly, turned his back to that Extreme Yang disaster, and darted toward the narrow passage at the end of the room.

  BUM! BUG! DUG!

  His rapid steps sounded irregular. Although the speed granted by the twenty Slaughter Seals was brutal, his movements were utterly chaotic. He ran with a limp while performing small hops, both hands busy holding artifacts, while his hips swung dramatically from side to side, trying to keep the area stung by lava away from the fabric of his burning robe.

  He no longer cared about the composure or dignity he should show as an elite cultivator. His remaining foundation was only twenty Seals, and his backside felt as if it were being roasted over heavenly embers. The sharp, stinging pain made tears nearly well up in the corners of his eyes. He gripped the Heavenly Devouring Cup tightly with his left hand; the blood-red jade jar felt like a smoldering fireball that still radiated heat, as if mocking his suffering.

  "Hot! Hot! Hot!" Zhi Xuan hissed, continuing to run in a strange fashion. He performed tiny jumps with his uninjured left leg, while his right leg, stung by the lava, was constantly lifted high and shaken in the air. His movements in the hot stone passage looked like the dance of a rooster suffering from convulsions.

  The lava pool seemed entertained by the spectacle. The waves of lava that had towered high now pursued him, radiating an increasingly aggressive Yang aura. The volcanic movement now felt alive, filled with rage because a heavenly artifact had been stolen.

  "I hate the Great Emperor's Tomb! I hate everything!" Zhi Xuan roared internally, his voice filled with frustration and embarrassing pain. He managed to reach the narrow passage that Senior Mu and his companions had passed through.

  He burst through the passage like a chaotic wind blade. Behind him, the Extreme Yang tongue of flame slammed into the mouth of the passage with the sound of a deafening explosion. The heat wave enveloped the corridor, incinerating the remnants of dust and moss on the stone walls. If Zhi Xuan had been a fraction of a breath later, he would surely have become charcoal absorbed back by the Tomb.

  He did not stop running. The pain was a whip that drove him forward. The passage sloped steeply upward, a quick exit from the wrath of the lava pool. Zhi Xuan, still running with a limp and hopping, continued to channel the purification essence of the Heavenly Samsara Wheel to his buttocks, yet the Extreme Yang lava refused to be cooled.

  Ahead, Senior Mu and the other disciples, hearing the chaos behind them, stopped for a moment, their faces turning to look at each other as they heard something sweltering and rushing toward them. They thought it was a secondary explosion from the cavern after the Great Emperor's Formation was triggered by one of the disciples. They turned around, and what they saw was not an explosion of essence, but a sight that shattered their worldview of elegant cultivation.

  From the passage ahead, a hooded figure emerged, tattered and ragged, his robe smoking and full of holes. The figure ran in an extremely strange manner—staggering, hopping on one leg, while his left hand tightly gripped a blood-red jade jar radiating lethal Extreme Yang aura, and his right hand held a vibrating ancient bronze cauldron.

  Behind that figure, following him faithfully, was a twisting wave of heat, a remnant of the lava pool's wrath that even in this narrow passage felt like the breath of hell.

  "W-what is that?" hissed the stoutest disciple, his eyes widening with horror and disbelief. They had seen Devils, they had seen madmen, but they had never seen someone running while hopping with a burnt backside inside a Great Emperor's Tomb.

  "The Heavenly Devouring Cup!" Senior Mu roared, his eyes, which were originally calm, now filled with burning desire, immediately recognizing the blood-red jade jar. He ignored Zhi Xuan's strange running gait. "He stole it from the harvesting pool! That is a heavenly artifact!"

  Zhi Xuan, who was too focused on the effort of maintaining balance and enduring the pain, did not notice their shock. He only saw them as obstacles to be leaped over.

  "Out of the way! Out of the way, you sect monkeys!" Zhi Xuan roared, his voice hoarse and nearly cracking from the pain. He shot past them like a mad storm.

  SRAK! WHUSHH!

  He passed them so quickly that Senior Mu and his companions only felt a searing gust of hot air and the smell of sulfur from Zhi Xuan's burning robe. The blood-red jar in Zhi Xuan's left hand radiated a Yang aura so powerful it nearly scorched their spiritual eyes.

  Senior Mu froze in place, his mind divided between the burning desire for the Heavenly Devouring Cup and total confusion regarding the spectacle he had just witnessed.

  "Did you see? He stole it!" hissed the disciple beside him.

  "That... Madman!" Senior Mu roared, his eyes staring sharply behind Zhi Xuan, toward the narrow passage that was now beginning to fill with rolling heat mist. "That is the Heavenly Devouring Cup! We must get it! Chase him!"

  However, they were a fraction of a breath too late. As Senior Mu and his disciples were about to give chase, the Extreme Yang tongue of flame pursuing Zhi Xuan, no longer obstructed by a body, slammed into the passage with lethal force.

  GUROOOH!

  The walls of the passage vibrated violently. The heat was no longer just stinging; it pierced the bone and attempted to penetrate their essence defenses.

  "Run! The pool is exploding!" Senior Mu shouted, his desire immediately replaced by cold fear. He realized that the hopping Zhi Xuan was not a mad cultivator, but someone fleeing from a natural disaster he had created himself.

  Without further orders, the six disciples of the Righteous Sect turned and began to run. They did not chase Zhi Xuan; they fled from him and the disaster following him. They ran up the sloping passage, following the irregular footprints of the hooded figure now far ahead of them, driven by survival instinct.

  Zhi Xuan, now realizing there was a tail following him, only snorted gruffly. He glanced back briefly, seeing six silver-robed figures running fast, their faces pale with terror.

  "Ha! Feel it! Let the Great Emperor's fire be the punishment for your arrogance!" Zhi Xuan hissed, although the pain in his buttocks made him almost unable to speak. He continued hopping and running with a limp, the Divine Cauldron hovering by his side, ready to be used for parrying. The Heavenly Devouring Cup, an extremely valuable heavenly artifact, was now merely a burden he had to carry while fleeing.

  The passage felt incredibly long. It wound upward, carrying them far from the wrath of the lava pool. After a while, the passage suddenly widened into another chamber, a crossroads room that was cold, radiating an Extreme Yin aura.

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  Zhi Xuan staggered; he used his final surge to dash and fell against the cold wall of the cavern, the Divine Cauldron and the Heavenly Devouring Cup falling beside him with a dull thud. He breathed deeply, his lungs feeling scorched, and he immediately touched his hot back with his right hand.

  "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Zhi Xuan hissed.

  Behind him, the six disciples of the Righteous Sect emerged from the passage, their faces utterly pale and covered in sweat. They immediately stopped, channeling essence into their defensive shields, fearing that Zhi Xuan would attack them.

  They saw the hooded figure slumped against the wall in a very strange position—one leg extended, the other bent, and one hand holding his smoking backside, while his breath came in gasps. Lying beside him was the Heavenly Devouring Cup they craved, the Cup they had not dared to take because they considered it a trap of greed.

  Zhi Xuan did not care about the killing aura or the fear radiating from the six figures behind him. The sharp pain and the piercing heat in his sensitive area overrode everything. He felt his burnt robe had fused to his stung skin, and every small movement sent painful shockwaves through his entire tailbone.

  Fortunately, the cold Extreme Yin aura soon calmed at least some of the smoldering heat. He inhaled deeply and slowly allowed his body to be enveloped by the Extreme Yin aura. The divide between Extreme Yang and Extreme Yin was so powerful that even the Heavenly Devouring Cup dimmed in the area occupied by the Extreme Yin essence.

  He realized he had slumped into an undignified position, especially in front of the six sect disciples he despised. He ignored them. His head throbbed from the loss of his Seals and exhaustion. He had to immediately heal these burns and recover his dignity. He took a deep breath, locking all his essence fluctuations, determined to show only tranquility, not the chaos that had just occurred.

  Senior Mu and his five companions stared at the scene. They saw the precious Heavenly Devouring Cup lying beside a figure who looked so weak, so fragile, and so foolish. Their confusion was soon replaced by desire. They were elites of the Righteous Sect; they were trained to take advantage of an enemy's weakness.

  "The artifact is there," Senior Mu hissed, his voice now returning to be cold and calculating, ignoring his fatigue. "He took it. But he is clearly heavily injured by the Extreme Yang Law."

  "Senior Mu, his body... he endured the Great Emperor's fire with a mortal body," whispered the thinner disciple, his eyes now radiating fear mixed with a strange respect. "He is a very powerful cultivator, but look at him now, he is helpless."

  "It does not matter who he is," Senior Mu cut in sharply. "Whether a Righteous cultivator or not, he is an obstacle. We are the envoys of Holy Son Zhu. Take the artifact! A heavenly artifact must belong to the Ancient Zhu Clan!"

  They began to move slowly, creating a quiet pincer formation, channeling their essence, and unknowingly, feeding the Great Emperor's Tomb around them. They stepped carefully because the Extreme Yin aura in the crossroads room felt very cold, suppressing their Yang foundation.

  Zhi Xuan, now fully focused on purifying the Extreme Yang lava on his buttocks, knew he had no time for negotiation. He could not use much essence; the Tomb would harvest it. And his reduced foundation would not be able to withstand six Righteous Sect elites in a frontal fight.

  He had to use his wits and the surrounding environment. Zhi Xuan smirked coldly, even though the pain in his buttocks made it almost impossible to focus. He opened his right eye, letting his cold sapphire gaze stare at the six approaching figures.

  "You have returned," Zhi Xuan hissed, his voice hoarse, but that cold tranquility managed to suppress the pain. "Were you not being chased by the Great Emperor's wrath? Or do you truly wish to trigger the Great Emperor's Formation again, which will cause us all to collapse here together?"

  That threat, spoken in a flat tone, immediately pierced the killing intent of Senior Mu and his followers. They knew the Great Emperor's Tomb was a living entity. The chaos they had just experienced was proof that the Tomb's Law did not hesitate to destroy intruders. They had seen how easily this hooded figure triggered the lava pool's wrath and fled, leaving disaster in his wake.

  "Stop your nonsense, Ghost!" Senior Mu shot back, his voice filled with dominating desire. He pointed to the Heavenly Devouring Cup lying on the ground. "That heavenly artifact does not belong to a desert rat like you. Hand over the Cup, and we will consider leaving you here to die slowly."

  Zhi Xuan only snorted gruffly. He took a deep breath, focusing the Heavenly Samsara Wheel to channel his purification essence to the burnt area, ignoring the embarrassing discomfort. The pain now became the catalyst for his focus.

  "You speak of the Righteous Sect's rules, of ownership," Zhi Xuan replied coldly. "This artifact is bait placed by the Great Emperor on the threshold of hell. I took it from the fire that would burn your foundation to ash. That is the price I paid. You only see the result, not the process."

  He slowly tilted his head, his cold eyes staring sharply at Senior Mu.

  "Furthermore, we are in the Great Emperor's Tomb. Here, your Righteous Sect is worth no more than mud. The Tomb's Law harvests essence. Every step you take toward this Cup, every bit of essence you channel, will become fertilizer for this decayed Tomb. If we fight, this Tomb will harvest us both. Are you ready to sacrifice your foundation for an empty jar that might just be the bait of your lifetime?"

  A cold smirk appeared beneath Zhi Xuan's hood. He knew their desire was strong, but their fear of the Tomb and punishment from an invisible authority was much stronger. He had pierced their weakest point—the fear of losing their foundation and exhaustion after being chased by lava.

  "He is right, Senior Mu," whispered the thinner disciple, his knees trembling slightly. "Here, we cannot use much essence. The Extreme Yin aura in this room also suppresses our Yang essence."

  Senior Mu whetted his teeth. He felt the constant siphoning of essence around him. He stared at Zhi Xuan, who now sat slumped against the wall, looking weak and tattered, yet his eyes radiated a lethal tranquility.

  "Fine," Senior Mu hissed, his voice choked with rage. "We will not fight here. But that Cup must remain here. We will take it when we return. If you take it and we find out, we will hunt you to the very roots of your Dao!"

  "A funny threat," Zhi Xuan replied, his voice filled with mockery. "I am already being hunted by the Eternal Killing Temple. An additional six bloodhounds will not make me flinch. Besides," Zhi Xuan picked up the Heavenly Devouring Cup with a quick motion, letting it lie in his lap. "This artifact will not wait for you. It belongs to whoever holds control. You, go find the passage to the core of the Tomb. I will heal this Extreme Yang burn."

  Zhi Xuan's words were a naked provocation. He did not just take the artifact in front of them; he also ordered them to continue their mission. Senior Mu felt his face flush with humiliation.

  "Let's go!" Senior Mu roared, making a bitter decision. He could not risk the lives of his six disciples and the Holy Son's mission just for a Cup that might only be bait. He had to focus on the Azure Dragon Bone Powder and the true Great Emperor's legacy.

  The six Righteous Sect disciples looked at Zhi Xuan with hatred and caution. They turned, and with a slightly shaky formation, they stepped into another passage, one filled with a thicker Yin aura on the left side of the room. They had chosen the opposite path from Zhi Xuan, toward the core of the Tomb.

  However, as if it would not stop there, the passage that had vomited lava now churned violently, triggering an Extreme Yin surge that created a spiritual spike to wash away the Extreme Yang. From outside the crossroads room, a frozen and painful scream came that made Zhi Xuan gasp.

  That scream was one of pure terror and pain, cut off suddenly by a bone-shattering frozen sound. It was a scream that did not come from Senior Mu's group, but from the passage they had just passed. That corridor, which had previously only radiated remnants of heat, was now enveloped by a dense cold mist, a backlash of Extreme Yin triggered by the Extreme Yang chaos.

  Zhi Xuan felt a bone-chilling cold creep beneath his robe. The Extreme Yin aura in this crossroads room surged, colliding with the Yang aura of the Heavenly Devouring Cup he held. He glanced toward the passage Senior Mu had taken. The six Righteous Sect disciples had disappeared, but in the other passage leading to the Tomb, he heard the clashing of metal and chaotic spiritual essence.

  "Dammit. The Great Emperor's Formation is indiscriminate," Zhi Xuan hissed, immediately rising from his undignified sitting position. The pain in his buttocks made him flinch, but the fear of an active Tomb Formation was far greater. The Formation did not just harvest essence; it annihilated with the opposing Laws of Extreme Yin-Yang.

  He had no time to recover. The Extreme Yin aura in this crossroads room grew denser, starting to form thin ice crystals on the stone walls. The Heavenly Devouring Cup in his hand felt like a fireball struggling against the cold. Zhi Xuan immediately stored it inside his storage bag, using a bit of essence to seal it so it would not cause too large a fluctuation.

  He took the Divine Cauldron, letting it spin rapidly around him, radiating a chaotic Four Seasons resonance—a final effort to balance an environment that was becoming wild.

  "Great Saint, give me a sign. Which passage is safe?" Zhi Xuan growled.

  "All passages are now the convulsing meridians of the Great Emperor," Ruo Xianxue replied, her voice filled with tension. "The passage those disciples took will soon close. You must take the most unstable path, the passage on the Extreme Yang side where you entered. That corridor is the shortest path to the core of the Tomb!"

  Zhi Xuan did not think twice. He turned and, with an irregular limping motion, he began to flee, running through the cold Extreme Yin aura toward the passage dominated by the hot Extreme Yang. His rapid and chaotic steps were a painful dance struggling against oppression.