Though not yet dead, they were not far from it.
This was the conclusion Xie Ziyin reached after the six of them found a secluded spot to rest and tend to their wounds, once he finished extracting the Bone-Eating Spiders that had burrowed into their bodies.
Their conditions were dire. Their bodies were riddled with holes corroded by the spiders—so many that they could look down and see their own bones and intestines through the gaps.
Treating such extensive injuries would require vast amounts of medicinal resources, effort, and time to recover.
But here, in this clearly perilous and unknown place, they lacked the means for proper medical care.
And the physician himself was also on the brink of death.
If he chose to save one of the five first, he would die midway through the treatment.
If he chose to save himself, by the time he finished, the other five would already be dead.
With a tone so objectively rational it bordered on cold indifference, Xie Ziyin said, "I don’t think there’s any point in treatment."
When these words reached Wen Shuangbai’s ears, she was leaning against a wall, inspecting her spirit saw.
Apart from the sturdiest and sharpest blade, which remained mostly intact, the rest of the saw was damaged. The core array that supplied spiritual energy from the spirit stones to the blade was in particularly terrible shape.
It could no longer function.
Wen Shuangbai felt her vision darken. Just as she was recovering from the shock of her spirit saw’s demise, Xie Ziyin’s words made her world spin again.
Truthfully, she had already sensed something amiss earlier, when Xie Ziyin was clearing the Bone-Eating Spiders from the crevices of her bones.
Her fellow Earthling was usually far from pleasant, his face perpetually expressionless as if everyone owed him a fortune.
But just now, while briefly treating their injuries, his demeanor had been gentler than usual—almost warm, even. He hadn’t so much as retorted when Shen Hefeng, in agony, cursed him as a quack who played with lives.
When a person nears death, their actions soften.
A doctor with a notoriously foul temper suddenly becoming kind was... well, terrifying.
"N-No point in treatment?" Lu Jiayao, who had been knocked unconscious and thus spared from the sensory chaos caused by the drug’s side effects, stammered. "So we just wait to die?"
"You could say that." Xie Ziyin observed the deepening corrosive wounds on his own body and estimated, "At most, we have half an hour."
Li Zhuohua sat upright nearby, admiring her exceptionally beautiful sword bones through the holes in her body.
Back in the underground palace of Tian Family Village, she had gained enlightenment after colliding with a giant stone statue, later cultivating her Sword Bone physique in the Endless House.
"I feel perfectly fine," she declared, showing no signs of impending death within half an hour.
The others nodded in agreement.
Wen Shuangbai felt the same. Though covered in wounds, her condition seemed stable—hardly like someone about to die.
Xie Ziyin replied flatly, "That’s because the painkillers I gave you have taken effect."
The five of them: "......"
Wen Shuangbai had assumed it was some kind of miracle bone-stabilizing pill, marveling at how quickly it worked—no dizziness, no pain, energy restored. Turns out it was just the Xuantian Continent’s version of ibuprofen?!
Yin Xuan was carefully pulling his long silver hair out of the wounds it had gotten tangled in. His hair was so lengthy it had pierced straight through.
Using a shard of a broken alchemy furnace, he tied his hair up neatly and thanked Xie Ziyin politely. "Many thanks, Junior Brother Xie." No wonder he felt no pain at all.
Shen Hefeng wore an "I told you so" look, gleefully stroking his chin. "I said the divination showed nothing but dead ends, yet none of you believed me. Still looking for a way out? Ignore my advice, suffer the consequences!"
Lu Jiayao protested, "Divinations can change, Brother Shen. Can’t you try again?"
"Do you take my words for nonsense?" Shen Hefeng snapped. "Dead ends mean dead ends—I’m certain. Another reading won’t change that!"
Li Zhuohua disagreed. "Third Earth is right. Try again. You divinated below earlier; now we’re above. The location’s different—maybe the outcome will be too."
Shen Hefeng fumed, but under the threat of Li Zhuohua’s Liumang Sword, he had no choice but to take out his tortoise shell and reluctantly perform another divination.
Yin Xuan, now with his hair neatly tied and robes adjusted, shook his head with a smile. He didn’t speak, nor did he sleep, simply watching his junior brothers and sisters bicker with quiet amusement.
No one knew what kind of damage dying in the Sacred Tower would inflict on their true bodies. It was a gamble—some escaped with minor injuries, most suffered severe wounds requiring long recovery, and the unluckiest were reduced to childlike idiocy.
Yin Xuan didn’t trust his luck, so staying awake to witness their lively quarrels was a blessing in itself.
Xie Ziyin ignored the group and approached Wen Shuangbai, who had been unusually quiet, her head lowered in thought. "You alright?"
"I’m fine," she murmured, lifting her gaze to scan their surroundings. "Xie Ziyin, do you feel it? Something’s coming."
The place they had rushed into resembled an arena.
At its center was a vast open space, shielded by a transparent defensive barrier. Outside the barrier stood a row of lavish golden chairs.
Right now, those chairs were empty.
But surely, at some point, they had been occupied.
By people who sat there, watching the slaughter unfold beneath the barrier.
Back in Qijia Town, Wen Shuangbai had often seen sword cultivators battling hordes of ghosts.
So here, what was pitted against what?
If one side was the cultivators, then the other—what was it?
Her eyes swept the area, settling on two opposing tunnel entrances at the edges of the arena.
One was sealed shut by a steel door engraved with the Eight Trigrams. The other had no door at all—just an abyss of darkness.
Yet Wen Shuangbai could inexplicably sense something stirring deep within that lightless passage.
Huff... huff... Its labored breathing, like the wheezing of bellows, grew louder.
And closer.
Everyone heard it now.
Li Zhuohua’s Liumang Sword shifted, its tip aimed at the doorless tunnel.
Shen Hefeng stared at the six graves depicted on his tortoise shell, his face grim. "Not just dead ends—my damn shell’s even prepared our graves!" Outrageous!
"At least we won’t have to pay for them," Wen Shuangbai muttered absently, her eyes locked on the tunnel.
She didn’t yet know if graves cost money on the Xuantian Continent, but in the modern world, they were expensive.
Every step after death came with a price—you couldn’t even afford to die.
Xie Ziyin, the only one present who understood her reference: "..."
"Friends, it just occurred to me," Wen Shuangbai said, her mind racing. "Maybe Old Shen’s divination wasn’t wrong after all!"
They truly were doomed.
Wen Shuangbai had previously been thinking about how to avoid walking the path of death and instead find a way to survive.
But what if… they didn’t actually need to avoid death? What if they could embrace it?
Xie Ziyin instantly grasped her meaning. "You mean exploiting the Holy Tower’s…"
Wen Shuangbai gave him an approving look.
Exactly—they were going to exploit the Holy Tower’s loophole!
Inside the Holy Tower, dying would inflict severe injuries on their real bodies.
But what if they left the Holy Tower before death? If they only sustained injuries without dying, the damage would be minor—just a few days of bed rest outside.
After quickly explaining the idea to the others, Wen Shuangbai declared, "Let’s try it."
After all, things couldn’t get any worse than this.
Xie Ziyin zeroed in on the core issue, glancing at the doorless corridor. "How can you be sure that defeating it will let us leave the Holy Tower?"
"Because… I can feel it." Wen Shuangbai lifted her gaze toward the figure emerging from the corridor—something neither human, ghost, nor demon, but a grotesque fusion of all three.
It resembled a thousand-year-old demonic tree given humanoid form, its vines swaying like serpents as it moved, blooming unnaturally with each step.
Atop its trunk-like body sat a massive head, its ghostly eyes fixed on them with eerie intensity.
From the depths of that monstrous head, Wen Shuangbai sensed a faint but undeniable resonance—a call that mirrored the summoning power of the Yaoling Heart Technique.
It whispered to her, over and over: Open me, open me, please open me…
"There’s something inside its skull," Wen Shuangbai said.
Vines lashed out from all directions. Dodging the first strike, she shouted what she believed to be the most crucial reminder: "Friends, we’ve earned so much money on this trip—don’t let it be for nothing! Blow its brains out!"
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the demonic tree-creature’s maw split open, its upper lip peeling back grotesquely to cover its entire forehead like a grotesque hood.
Wen Shuangbai: "…………"
Damn it all, this thing really isn’t human.
There was no time to strategize.
But after countless battles together, they had developed an unspoken synergy.
Xie Ziyin and Shen Hefeng, both support-type cultivators, immediately retreated to Lu Jiayao’s side.
Lu Jiayao, a sound cultivator capable of small-scale crowd control, raised his spirit flute and began playing the Demon-Subduing Melody.
Having observed countless ghosts and demons below, he recognized this creature as one of them.
The tune proved effective—the whip-like vines slowed, coiling lazily around Lu Jiayao like ribbons, waiting for an opening.
Lu Jiayao had many fears, and ghosts topped the list.
The effects of Xie Ziyin’s painkiller pill had worn off, and pretending he wasn’t nervous would be a lie.
But after the incident where he’d mistaken a ghost for a chicken and kissed it… well, this thing didn’t seem so terrifying anymore.
At least half of it was a tree.
As a country boy, he’d always felt an affinity for plants.
Lu Jiayao’s holding up well!
The vines’ attacks reminded Wen Shuangbai of the whip techniques Elder Cao had taught her in the Endless Pavilion.
She dodged smoothly—until the damned tree started targeting the holes in her body, even trying to worm its vines inside!
Absolute bastard.
Thankfully, Xie Ziyin’s enhanced painkillers kept her numb.
Grabbing a handful of vines, she assessed the sea of writhing tendrils and the gaping maw ahead. Without hesitation, she bolted toward Lu Jiayao’s protective zone.
Within the range of the Demon-Subduing Melody, the vines retreated from her wounds, redirecting their attention to Lu Jiayao.
Soon, Yin Xuan arrived, similarly entangled.
Li Zhuohua followed, frustration written across her face. "No good!" she huffed.
The vines were too dense—they couldn’t get close enough to the creature’s head, let alone take flight.
And now, the damned tree had hidden its skull entirely, leaving only that waiting mouth.
Xie Ziyin frowned. "We need to get behind it."
Maybe they could crack its skull from the rear.
Shen Hefeng suggested, "We could move like we did through the ghost horde—follow Lu Jiayao’s lead."
"No," Xie Ziyin shook his head. "Too slow."
Detouring would take at least an hour. They had less than thirty minutes before their lifespans ran out.
"There’s a faster way," Yin Xuan said calmly. "Let the vines carry us, then stop them at the right moment to circle around."
During his adventuring days, whenever sword-flight grew exhausting, he’d hitch rides on demonic beasts.
Worked like a charm.
Wen Shuangbai and Xie Ziyin had considered the same idea.
But its success hinged entirely on Lu Jiayao’s ability to time his control spells perfectly.
One mistimed note, and all six would be tree chow.
"Trust Jiayao," Yin Xuan said. He rarely voiced opinions, usually leaving strategy to his junior siblings. But this time, he insisted, "He can do it."
Lu Jiayao, still playing, widened his eyes at Yin Xuan in protest.
Yin Xuan smiled serenely. "See? He says he can."
Lu Jiayao: "!!" No, I’m saying I CAN’T!
But with the flute at his lips, he couldn’t speak.
Faced with no better options, Wen Shuangbai made the call. "Alright, let’s do it. Everyone agree?"
"Agreed," Shen Hefeng nodded. "I believe in Lu Jiayao’s luck."
Li Zhuohua concurred. "If he hadn’t chosen this path earlier, we’d be in the Bone-Eating Spider’s nest by now."
With consensus reached, Wen Shuangbai lashed them together with her Firefeather Whip. She patted Lu Jiayao’s shoulder. "Ready when you are."
But Lu Jiayao kept playing, terrified that a single mistake would doom them all.
As precious seconds ticked away, Xie Ziyin stepped forward and—with the detached efficiency of a physician removing life support—plucked the flute from Lu Jiayao’s hands.
The music stopped.
Vines erupted like striking serpents, cocooning all six in a crushing embrace. Tendrils wormed into Wen Shuangbai’s corroded wounds as they hurtled toward the gaping maw.
Lu Jiayao, shielded at the center, found himself the least entangled.
For a moment, he could only feel the blood of the five splattering all over him. He couldn’t sense pain, but he could feel the heat of the blood as it splashed onto the back of his hand.
Scalding hot.
Lu Jiayao tightened his grip on the flute in his hand, his gaze piercing through the gaps in the vines as he scanned the outside.
Wen Shuangbai and the others couldn’t count down for him—counting would inevitably cause a delay.
He had to watch for himself, to find the perfect moment on his own.
Lu Jiayao recalled the forced calmness induced by the medicinal pill and struggled to recapture that state, steadying himself.
Then, seizing the moment, he lowered his head and blew into the flute.
The sound was hoarse and grating, yet to Wen Shuangbai and the others, it was the most beautiful melody they had ever heard.
The vines abruptly froze and loosened, sending the six of them—bound together by the Fire Phoenix Whip—tumbling downward, only to land precisely on a branch closest to the back of the skull of the thousand-year-old demon tree, Ghostly Humanoid.
The cultivators watching through the Mystic Heaven Mirror couldn’t help but cheer.
["Lu Jiayao did it!!"]
["Incredible! That was no easy feat!"]
["Heavens, but they look so badly injured… It must hurt so much…"]
The group had no time to assess the extent of their injuries.
The second they landed on the branch, they scrambled with all their might, arms and legs working furiously as they clawed their way toward the back of the demon tree’s skull.
Lu Jiayao’s timing had been impeccable—the branch was close.
In no time, they reached the base of the tree’s massive head.
But the bark was rough and thick.
Li Zhuohua and Yin Xuan slashed at it with their swords several times, leaving only shallow marks, and their efforts seemed to agitate the thousand-year-old Ghostly Humanoid, sending it into a frenzy.
Lu Jiayao strained to stabilize it with his flute’s melody.
Xie Ziyin pressed a hand against the tree’s skull, his pale green spiritual energy spreading over it as he located the weakest spot. He pulled out the specialized surgical blade Wen Shuangbai had given him and swiftly traced a circle before turning to her. "We need a cranial drill."
Wen Shuangbai cursed inwardly. "My saw’s broken."
"Then we do it manually," Xie Ziyin, ever the composed surgeon, said coldly. "Or all this will be for nothing."
"Fine." Wen Shuangbai hauled out the half-destroyed spirit saw and barked at the others, "Come on, let’s stab through it!"
The group clung to the saw, working in unison as they drove the blade into the circle Xie Ziyin had marked, forcing it deeper with sheer brute strength.
The thousand-year-old Ghostly Humanoid went berserk, abruptly shattering the demonic melody’s hold.
With a wet gasp, Lu Jiayao spat out a mouthful of blood.
If not for the Fire Phoenix Whip binding them together, he would have plummeted.
The demon tree trembled violently, its vines twisting and writhing as they lashed toward the group hacking at its skull.
But Wen Shuangbai had already used the whip to bind their bodies tightly to the tree’s head.
If the ancient demon wanted to tear them away, it would have to rip off its own skull in the process!
Seeming to realize this, the tree vented its fury by driving its vines into their wounds, yanking out intestines and organs in a grotesque display.
Their vision blurred—a sign that their lives were slipping away at a terrifying speed.
Gritting their teeth, they ignored everything, focusing solely on the circle before them.
They had come this far. This was the final step.
Thinking of all the spirit stones, elixirs, and crafting materials they had poured into this ordeal, Wen Shuangbai burned with rage.
To hell with it! After investing so much, they couldn’t walk away empty-handed!
Summoning every ounce of strength left in her, she gripped one end of the saw, and together with her teammates, she rammed it into the circle with all her might!
Stab through it, stab through it, STAB THROUGH IT!!!
They lost count of how many times they struck.
Then—suddenly—a wet, squelching sound.
Foul, blackened brain matter, reeking like sewage, burst from the breached cavity, splattering all six of them.
Amid the putrid sludge, Wen Shuangbai spotted something—a scroll, shimmering gold and delicate as a cicada’s wing, emerging from the tree’s skull.
It floated toward her, then vanished into her spiritual sea.
In that instant, everything around her grew distant and hazy. The thousand-year-old Ghostly Humanoid dissolved like a phantom bubble, vanishing without a trace.
The next moment, the six from Qingling Mountain were ejected from the Sacred Tower.
Amid the distant shouts of "Hurry, hurry! You healers, move faster!" from Elder Cao and the incessant vibrations of the Mystic Heaven Mirrors at their waists, Wen Shuangbai allowed herself to pass out with a sense of relief.
Ah… That was the sound of a bank transfer notification.
