Shen Xian condensed a spark of spiritual light at his fingertip, dragging it across the charred bronze floor to carve the first line of an array.

The moment the cyan glow met the ground, the light died, swallowed by a parasitic, rust-colored film. The very stones of the Thunder Prison seemed to recoil from his essence. Shen Xian’s brow furrowed. With a flick of his wrist, he produced a heavy jade formation disk. Drawing upon the technical insights of the [Heavenly Craft Formation Compendium], he flooded the disk with a surge of pure Qi, forcibly suppressing the malevolent aura of the floor.

Only then did the lines connect. A translucent barrier flickered into existence, rising like a fragile eggshell to cocoon the two of them.

“Shen Lang… the bodies…” Wei Zhaoli’s voice cracked, thin and brittle with alarm.

Shen Xian followed her gaze toward the fresh corpses scattered nearby. His eyes narrowed. Before his very sight, the fallen cultivators were withering. Their flesh and blood were being pulled into the earth by invisible threads of gravity, leaving behind nothing but stark, polished bone in a matter of breath. The essence didn’t evaporate; it seeped into the cracks of the bronze floor like a liquid offering, fed to the voracious hunger of the prison itself.

“This is no ordinary trial,” Shen Xian muttered. He activated the [Taixu Mirror of the Divine], pushing his Soul Formation level Divine Sense outward.

Usually, his perception could sweep across a hundred li like a tidal wave. Here, it felt as if he were trying to scream underwater. His senses hit a wall of viscous, bloody mist barely ten meters out, collapsing under the pressure of the environment.

He quickly weighed his options. The fifth floor was a death trap, and the primary threat remained Lin Lang. That snake was cunning; his hesitation to enter earlier suggested he knew exactly how lethal this floor was and had hoped to let others exhaust themselves first. Yet, Shen Xian felt a cold confidence settle in his chest. In the face of absolute power, schemes were merely the frantic dances of a jumping clown.

What truly concerned him was the instability of his ward. This barrier won’t hold, he thought. His expertise in Array Formations was rudimentary at best; he could stave off the ambient miasma, but a direct strike from the blood-red lightning would shatter this “eggshell” instantly.

I need to break the restriction on that humanoid puppet, he realized. I need a shield that doesn’t breathe.

He reached for his storage bag, but a sharp, wet cough cut through the silence.

Wei Zhaoli crumpled, her body trembling as crimson stained her lips. The fiendish energy was a persistent poison, gnawing at her despite his earlier efforts. She had been playing the role of the stoic partner, unwilling to be a burden, but the dam had finally broken.

Shen Xian moved with a speed that belied his usual carefree demeanor. He caught her before she hit the cold bronze, his right arm locking around her slender waist while his left supported the curve of her neck.

As she leaned back, Wei Zhaoli found herself staring up into a face that haunted her dreams. Usually, Shen Xian looked like a man who found the world mildly amusing and terribly exhausting. Now, his features were set in a mask of grim focus. In the strobing light of the red lightning, she noticed a tiny tear mole at the corner of his eye—a small, vulnerable detail amidst his overwhelming power.

Shen Xian didn’t hesitate. He hovered his palm over her back, channeling [Profound Origin True Force] into the Fengmen acupoint. Streams of pale gold light seeded into her damaged meridians. When his Qi collided with the black rot clinging to her heart, Wei Zhaoli gasped, her body tensing as cold sweat matted her hair to her temples.

“Endure,” Shen Xian murmured, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp.

As his spirit traveled through her, he felt a secondary, warm resonance within her—a special constitution fighting back. He felt the tension in his own chest loosen slightly. He withdrew a jade bottle—a third-grade healing pill gifted by his elder brother.

“Open up,” he commanded.

Wei Zhaoli blinked, dazed. She was used to the lazy, lounging version of her fiancé. This version—serious, commanding, and fiercely protective—made her heart skip in a way that had nothing to do with her injuries.

“Cough—” Another spray of blood hit the front of Shen Xian’s [Profound Heaven Azure Cloud Robe]. The red spots looked like plum blossoms scattered across a field of fresh snow.

Shen Xian’s eyes darkened with a flash of irritation at his own slowness. He reached out, his thumb and forefinger firm against her chin, and tilted her head back to slide the pill home.

The medicine dissolved into a warm current, dousing the fire in her chest. Wei Zhaoli stared at him, her mind a static white noise of mounting affection. Is he… actually worried?

“How do you feel?” Shen Xian asked, his voice thick with uncharacteristic gravity. In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about his cultivation or the system; he saw only the woman who had stood by him.

“Much… much better,” she whispered, looking away.

Shen Xian nodded, but his eyes caught the jagged tear on her left shoulder where the bone peeked through the raw flesh. He pulled a roll of [Moonlight Brocade] bandage and a vial of medicinal powder from his bag.

As his long, calloused fingers brushed against the porcelain skin of her shoulder to apply the salve, a shiver raced down her spine. She flinched instinctively, but Shen Xian’s hand remained steady on her waist.

“Don’t move,” he said softly.

The powder was cool, but the contact felt like a brand. She lowered her head, her long lashes fluttering like the wings of a dying butterfly. Shen Xian was so close she could smell the faint, clean scent of pinewood on his breath—a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of blood and decay filling the prison.

Wei Zhaoli, the famed “First Beauty” of the Divine Wood Sect, felt a deep, burning flush creep up her neck. Her initial approach to him had been calculated, a move in a larger game. Now, the weight of her secret felt like a stone. If we survive this, I have to tell him, she vowed. No more lies.

Shen Xian finished the bandage and pulled back, noticing the deep crimson hue of her face. The grim line of his mouth finally softened, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. He opened his mouth, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue.

BOOM—!

The ground buckled.