The tunnel silence was alive, thick and cold. Lin Tian listened to his own breathing, held the Core in his left hand, its chill a reminder of the prize that had nearly killed him. His right arm throbbed against his chest. He didn't need to look; he could feel the black veins spreading.
He Lian's gone. The System map glowed in his mind: the labyrinth, the red dot of the wyrm in its chamber, and one blue dot. No other disciples nearby. The exit was a winding route away, with at least three of hostile life signs between here and there. Cave ghouls, probably.
He pushed off the wall. A sharp ache bloomed in his shoulder, the old frost-venom wound protesting. He ignored it. The curse was the greater threat. A timer counting down in his flesh. The geothermal vents Liang Shu had mentioned were somewhere beneath the North Peak, not here. He needed to get out first.
One step at a time. Get to the exit.
