Outside the Sacred Tower, Wen Shuangbai had never seen anything like this artifact before.
She remembered the young hall master proudly saying that it was personally crafted by the third young lady of Qi Manor, Lady Qi Yaoling, and that such a thing couldn’t be found anywhere else.
Qi Yaoling, the third young lady of Qi Manor, was born into a family of renowned artifact forgers and had displayed extraordinary talent in the craft since childhood.
It was said that to create this bulky contraption, Qi Yaoling had gone out of her way to befriend a talisman and formation cultivator from the Spirit Mountain Sect, exchanging knowledge and collaborating on its development.
Though the young hall master didn’t know who that person was, Wen Shuangbai was almost certain—the talisman cultivator from Spirit Mountain Sect was none other than Senior Ye Qingrong.
Five hundred years ago, Qi Yaoling and Ye Qingrong had met and become inseparable friends, all for the sake of this cultivation-world version of a chainsaw.
After Qi Yaoling and Ye Qingrong disappeared, this chainsaw became a lost masterpiece, the only one left in Qi Manor’s stronghold in Zhuoguang City.
It wasn’t until five hundred years later, when the Sacred Tower trials began, that it saw the light of day again.
The principle behind this thing was quite similar to a chainsaw—powered by spirit stones, it activated the embedded formations to rapidly spin razor-sharp blades, making it incredibly convenient for forgers to process materials.
Of course, Wen Shuangbai thought, it was also very convenient for breaking through doors.
Time was of the essence. They had to clear this stage of the Sacred Tower before the Qi family head and the steward returned from the city lord’s residence.
With that in mind, Wen Shuangbai carefully put on her makeshift goggles, suppressed the ache in her heart, and—with great extravagance—inserted a raw spirit stone into the chainsaw.
Amidst the ear-piercing screech, the chainsaw roared to life.
The blade, enveloped in spiritual energy, spun so fast it became a blur. When it collided with the indestructible Green Steel Bagua Door, sparks erupted in a dazzling display.
The dense horde of ghosts surrounding the six of them instinctively took half a step back.
Yet, even so, the Green Steel Bagua Door only suffered a scratch!
Damn it!
Wen Shuangbai was about to lose her mind.
This monstrosity had one flaw—once activated, it wouldn’t stop until the raw spirit stone was completely depleted, with no way to pause or interrupt it.
Much like the Endless House back in their Qingling Mountain, every passing second was burning money.
Burning money without achieving anything—what was the difference between that and tossing coins into the water just to hear the splash?
Wen Shuangbai’s heart clenched, her entire body tensing as she racked her brain for a solution.
What to do, what to do? Was she really going to waste an entire raw spirit stone like this?
One raw spirit stone was equivalent to ten sacred stones—ten thousand spirit stones!
No, absolutely not!
There had to be a way to salvage this.
Under the terrifying pressure of a ticking clock and burning money, a sudden thought flashed through Wen Shuangbai’s mind.
Back then, Qi Yaoling and Ye Qingrong hadn’t just worked on the chainsaw—they had also developed the Yaoling Heart Method.
But what if… they had originally researched the Yaoling Heart Method just to improve the chainsaw?
In the two seniors’ vision, they likely wanted to create an artifact that could cut through any material and be usable by any forger. But during their experiments, if they discovered something even this artifact couldn’t cut…
The reverse cultivation of the Yaoling Heart Method could melt materials.
That was precisely why Wen Shuangbai had chosen to practice it in the first place.
No sooner had the idea struck than she acted.
Without hesitation, Wen Shuangbai poured her soul—no, the Yaoling Heart Method—into the chainsaw.
As she worked on breaking through the door, Wen Shuangbai never once worried about what was behind her, focusing solely on the task at hand.
Though surrounded by ghosts, the key to victory in a team competition was absolute trust in one’s comrades.
Before long, she was rewarded with a gratifying sight.
The chainsaw successfully bit into the supposedly unbreakable Green Steel Bagua Door.
Calculating the remaining fuel in the raw spirit stone, Wen Shuangbai timed it perfectly—just as the chainsaw sputtered to a stop, she had cut a hole the size of a dog door into the barrier.
Exhausted, her spiritual energy completely drained, Wen Shuangbai slumped over the chainsaw. She forced herself to swallow a Spirit Recovery Pill, but when the effect proved lackluster, she downed several more.
Staring into the unknown darkness beyond the hole, she turned to her teammates, who were still holding off the ghosts, and asked, “Who’s going first?”
Senior Sister Li Zhuohua immediately declared, “I will!”
As a sword cultivator, she would charge ahead to scout any danger!
The group tightened their defensive circle.
“Be careful, Senior Sister,” Wen Shuangbai said as she stowed the chainsaw away.
Li Zhuohua gave a firm nod, her body taut like a drawn sword, and slipped through the hole in one swift motion.
Moments later, her head popped back out. “Come over, it’s safe for now.”
Wen Shuangbai went next, needing to prepare to seal the hole behind them.
Then came Shen Hefeng.
Lately, he had been in a perpetually irritable state.
While squeezing through, his Taoist cap got knocked off, revealing the three stubborn strands of hair clinging to his scalp.
“You stingy brat!” he fumed. “Couldn’t you have cut a bigger hole? Did you really have to make us crawl through like dogs? We’re not—”
Xie Ziyin, standing behind him, promptly kicked Shen Hefeng through the hole.
“Ow! You damn poison master, you dare sneak attack me? What, can’t I even scold your partner—”
“Shut it,” Wen Shuangbai retorted from the other side, crouching with the cut-out door panel and a stack of talismans in hand. “This isn’t a dog hole—it’s a money hole.”
A hole carved with ten thousand spirit stones and seven Spirit Recovery Pills.
One by one, the Qingling Mountain disciples made their way through.
Meanwhile, in front of the Mystic Heaven Mirror, the watching cultivators were thoroughly entertained by the spectacle.
[If we ever crawl through the same hole in this life, does that count as sharing a bond?]
…
Finally, only Lu Jiayao remained on the other side, still playing his ghost-subduing melody.
Keeping the tune going, he crouched by the hole and extended one leg through.
The ghosts crouched down in eerie unison.
As he moved his other leg, his upper body suddenly tipped forward, his head nearly smashing into the ground!
The cultivators watching through the Mystic Heaven Mirror held their breaths.
But Yin Xuan and Li Zhuohua, both sword cultivators, reacted swiftly—grabbing Lu Jiayao’s leg, they yanked him upright and hauled him through the hole.
The entire time, Lu Jiayao remained face-up, the sea of ghostly faces hovering inches above him.
One wrong note, and he would have been torn to shreds.
Yet, strangely, under the influence of that little pill, Lu Jiayao felt no fear.
In fact, if he imagined the ghosts as little chicks, their ghastly faces even seemed fluffy and cute.
With this bizarre thought, Lu Jiayao wore the serene expression of a mother hen soothing her brood.
The moment he crossed over, the ghosts surged forward, trying to follow.
Wen Shuangbai was already prepared. She immediately slammed the door in her hands shut!
With the dog hole blocked, the ghosts let out furious shrieks. In an instant, countless spectral hands frantically pushed against the door, and many even forced their way through the remaining gaps, clawing wildly.
The group swiftly severed the ghostly hands, while Wen Shuangbai pasted talismans densely around the dog door, sealing every possible opening.
On the other side, the ghosts, sensing no trace of living beings, gradually quieted down.
On this side, Wen Shuangbai and the others finally let out a sigh of relief.
But before they could celebrate, they saw Lu Jiayao, who had stopped playing his flute, pick up one of the severed ghost hands and lovingly kiss it. "So adorable. I can’t bear to part with them."
Everyone: "…………"
Li Zhuohua gasped in horror: "Third Earth Junior Brother used to kiss baby chicks on the head like this back in Tianjia Village!"
Yin Xuan was stunned, murmuring: "We’re doomed."
Shen Hefeng gloated: "Hahaha, Lu Third Earth has lost it too!" Well, at least he wasn’t the only one suffering—his hair loss wasn’t so bad now!
While Shen Hefeng took a break from divination, the group didn’t dare to move forward blindly and decided to rest where they were.
Wen Shuangbai slowly turned her head toward Xie Ziyin. "Is this because of your medicine?"
"Mn." Xie Ziyin pinched his chin, deep in thought. "The side effects have begun."
Wen Shuangbai: "..."
Turns out, Shen Hefeng was right about one thing—Xie Ziyin’s little pills were not to be taken lightly.
Suddenly remembering something, Wen Shuangbai grabbed Xie Ziyin’s sleeve and whispered sharply, "Tell me, what did you put in the roasted chicken-flavored fasting pill you gave me?"
No wonder he’d suddenly been so generous.
Xie Ziyin: "..."
Xie Ziyin pried her fingers off his sleeve one by one. "I added a conscience."
He glanced at her. "Because you don’t have one."
Wen Shuangbai: "?"
"Friends of Divine Diviner Shen."
Suddenly, Shen Hefeng’s voice echoed eerily as he cradled his turtle shell.
"Though I cannot share life with you, sharing death tonight is truly the worst luck I’ve had in eight lifetimes!"
Hearing this, Wen Shuangbai immediately went over to examine the divination.
The turtle shell was covered in ominous black cracks—undoubtedly a dire omen.
Shen Hefeng said, "I cast seven hexes. Every one pointed to death."
Wen Shuangbai frowned. "But didn’t you divine the best timing? How could there be no path of survival?"
"The best timing just means we die a little later." Shen Hefeng put away the turtle shell—there was no point in further divination.
"Fine." Wen Shuangbai had always adhered to the principle that "auspicious signs are accurate, inauspicious ones are not." She declared, "You’re wrong."
Shen Hefeng: "???"
Shen Hefeng was so furious that one of his three remaining hairs fell out. He pointed at his own nose. "Me? Divine Diviner Shen, the greatest diviner on the Xuantian Continent? Wrong?!"
"Nonsense. All paths lead to death? I don’t believe it." Wen Shuangbai stared at the seven branching paths ahead. "Even if they’re all death paths, we’ll carve out a way to survive!"
They had come this far. Whether the method to craft Spirit Mountain Veil was inside, whether there was a final boss lurking within, how many sacred stones they could loot—she had to see for herself.
"Junior Sister is right!" Li Zhuohua stood tall, gazing at the seven diverging paths. "So which one do we take?"
Shen Hefeng, now down to two hairs, looked utterly defeated. "Pick at random. It’s all the same anyway."
When Li Zhuohua’s questioning gaze drifted toward her, Wen Shuangbai shook her head. "Don’t look at me! I won’t choose. My luck’s terrible."
Back in the modern world, she’d been the epitome of lottery curse.
Li Zhuohua sighed. "My luck’s no good either."
Every time she’d entered a secret realm, no matter which path she picked, it always turned out to be the hardest one.
As for Xie Ziyin?
If he’d had good luck, would he have transmigrated into a broke physician after paying off his multi-million-dollar penthouse mortgage just a month prior?
In the end, the five from Qingling Mountain exchanged glances, then unanimously turned to Lu Jiayao—who, under the influence of the drug’s side effects, was now bestowing equal affection upon every ghostly hand.
