A chilling wind rushed from the newly opened chasm, carrying the scent of age and decay. The glowing runes along the cliff pulsed faintly, casting ghostly reflections on every face. For a long breath, no one moved. Then Tian Shen stepped forward, his robe fluttering as his gaze swept across the dark abyss.
"The entrance won't remain open for long," Liang Rui said, holding up his jade plate as runes flickered in warning. "The formation's pattern is unstable—it reacts to the presence of qi."
"Then we move quickly," Mei Ling said, her tone firm. "Stay close. Don't touch anything unless you're sure it's safe."
The groups descended cautiously, their boots crunching against gravel and bone. The deeper they went, the more the air thickened with spiritual residue—dense, ancient, and heavy. Flickers of light shimmered within the walls, remnants of spiritual inscriptions that still lingered after countless years.
It wasn't long before the first scream echoed through the tunnel.
A rogue cultivator ahead suddenly convulsed. His protective barrier shattered as invisible threads of energy sliced through his body, leaving only blood and dust in their wake. The air shimmered faintly with an unseen web.
"Spirit threads," Liang Rui hissed, instantly kneeling to analyze the pattern. "They react to movement and spiritual fluctuations. This is no ordinary cave—it's a burial ground of formations."
Hao Feng stepped forward, his hammer glowing with earthen light. "Then we smash our way through."
"Idiot," Mei Ling snapped, grabbing his arm. "Break one seal and the rest will trigger. You'll bury us all before the relics do."
The tension was palpable. Every step felt like walking across a blade. Tian Shen knelt beside Liang Rui, his eyes narrowing. "Can you disarm them?"
"I can… but it will take time." Sweat beaded on Liang Rui's forehead as his fingers danced across talismans, sketching counter-seals into the ground. "The mechanism draws on residual spiritual veins. Whoever set this up was a genius."
As Liang Rui worked, Tian Shen focused on the faint energy currents flowing through the corridor. Something about the threads resonated strangely within him—like faint whispers brushing against his soul. He closed his eyes, extending his spiritual sense. The world slowed, and in that stillness, the unseen took shape.
The air shimmered with countless silver filaments stretching in intricate patterns. Within their flow, he sensed something familiar—the rhythm of time. The threads didn't merely react to movement; they pulsed with intervals of energy that looped and reset. They were traps woven into the very passage of moments.
"Tian Shen?" Mei Ling called softly. "What are you doing?"
"Watch closely," he murmured, raising his hand. He traced a slow arc through the air, his qi syncing with the rhythm of the filaments. For a heartbeat, everything froze—the spirit threads trembled, their cycle disrupted—and then, they unraveled silently, vanishing like morning mist.
The corridor fell still.
Liang Rui looked up in disbelief. "You… synchronized with the formation? That's impossible without mastering temporal resonance!"
Tian Shen opened his eyes, faint traces of silver fading from his pupils. "I just listened to it," he said simply. "The formation flows like a heartbeat. Once you feel its pulse, it reveals where it's weakest."
Hao Feng whistled low. "Remind me never to spar with you."
"Save the compliments," Mei Ling muttered, though her gaze lingered on Tian Shen with newfound intrigue. "We still have a long way to go."
As they advanced deeper, the traps grew more complex—runes that triggered illusions, spirit seals that siphoned qi, corridors that looped back to their start. Yet, with Tian Shen's guidance and Liang Rui's expertise, they pressed forward, unraveling the ancient defenses one by one.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached a vast chamber. A circular altar stood at its center, surrounded by faintly glowing statues. Strange runes pulsed beneath their feet—different from the traps before.
"This is the final seal," Liang Rui whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "But it's… alive. The formation is drawing from something beneath the altar."
Tian Shen's expression darkened as he sensed the energy within the runes—steady, but filled with suppressed fury. "This isn't a relic chamber," he said quietly. "It's a prison."
Before anyone could respond, the altar trembled, and cracks began to spread across the floor.