Forbidden techniques are called so for a reason.

The scenery before his eyes rippled like water once again, gradually becoming blurry.

At the very moment his vision cleared, Bai Ke suddenly came to a realization. These successive illusions—whether aided by drugs or formations—were, at their core, not external traps woven by someone else to lure him. Instead, they were chaotic dreams he had crafted for himself.

In the dense forest, his subconscious feared losing track of Junxiao and falling into the traps of the Hengtian Sect, which could lead to his untimely demise. Thus, the first layer of illusion arose. Awakening from the false impression of his own death, his subconscious couldn’t help but worry about Junxiao and Yu Xian’s safety, dragging him into a second illusion.

With the weight of two compounded illusions, even someone with the strongest will and the calmest demeanor would find their inner unease magnified. They would start worrying over people or things they usually wouldn't worry about—like Bai Zixu, who should have been perfectly safe within the secret realm.

Now, everything he was witnessing stemmed from his subconscious being unearthed and plowed over and over again. The hard outer shell that suppressed his mind had been pried open, unleashing long-buried, dusty memories that surged forward like a flood. These ancient recollections crashed chaotically into his mind, overwhelming him like being forced to accept a millennium's worth of memories from another person in an instant—utterly chaotic and impossible to process.

He managed to grasp only the deepest and most vivid fragments, mixing them with snippets of conversations he had casually heard from Junxiao and Yu Xian. Together, these fused into a new illusion.

The only difference this time was that the events in this illusion were not entirely imagined—they were real.

The one entrapped was himself, and the one in control was also himself.

When he thought of something, related fragments would be picked out from his mind, unconsciously taking the form of illusions before his eyes.

Thus, when his vision cleared once more, he saw one of the scenes he least wanted to confront—

He found himself standing again by the stone platform inscribed with the formation, but this time, the person lying on the platform was not Bai Lingchen—it was Wu Nan.

Kneeling beside him was Shen Han, dressed in plain garments. Her face, once as radiant as a blooming peach blossom, now bore a heavy grief. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts; it was impossible to tell how long she had been crying. Pressing her lips together, she swallowed her sobs and hoarsely asked Wu Nan, "Senior Brother, have you made up your mind?"

Wu Nan relaxed his furrowed brows slightly. Raising a hand, he bent his index finger to gently wipe away the tears at the corner of her eyes. "The final prescription didn’t work, and the Master has gone mad at the alchemy furnace. The method of risking a closed-door attempt is fraught with danger. Senior Brother Junxiao is on the verge of collapse, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion. He’s almost sacrificed his life but still dares not release his hold on the formation. Our master’s current state can’t even endure the interval needed to switch people, and we can’t step in to help either. Since I have no blood relatives and spent my early years as a stray, scavenging food with stray dogs and cats, I owe my life entirely to our master, who took me in. If not for him, I’d have lived a miserable existence in some alley for a few more years before dying. My life belongs to Master. Offering it in exchange for his is only natural. Besides, this formation doesn’t take lives."

"You say that so lightly! If it doesn’t take lives, why won’t you let me activate it?!" Shen Han’s voice cracked.

Wu Nan tugged the corner of his lips in a faint, tired smile. "Your expertise lies in alchemy. Even if the formation won’t cost you your life, it will cause some damage. If you activate it, how will you assist the Master after he emerges from closed-door cultivation past midnight?"

Shen Han struggled to come up with a counterargument but failed. She could only clutch Wu Nan’s hand tightly, refusing to let go.

"Enough. Stop crying. Let me activate the formation. Time is running out." Wu Nan closed his eyes and pulled his hand back. With a cold gesture, he swept his sleeve, forcefully pushing Shen Han out of the stone platform’s circular formation.

Bai Ke’s chest tightened at Wu Nan’s actions, and he instinctively wanted to intervene. But before he could, a loud “Wong—” reverberated. The sound of a massive wind blade swirling and roiling suddenly filled the air. A powerful force field enveloped the entire stone platform, encircling Wu Nan at its center, preventing people from outside the stone platform from breaking in.

Bai Ke braced himself against the fierce wind, his gaze fixed on Wu Nan. He watched as Wu Nan’s brows furrowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The veins on his upturned wrists bulged, taut and straining.

Above Wu Nan, five black-gold spikes materialized in mid-air, their ancient and heavy appearance adorned with glowing golden inscriptions that spiraled around them as they rotated.

Golden runes poured from Wu Nan’s body, wrapping around him in an endless flow. At his sharp command, the five spikes shot down with a sudden, terrifying force.

Left wrist, right wrist.

Left ankle, right ankle.

…And one aimed directly at the heart.

The five black-gold spikes, wrapped in flowing golden light, pierced through Wu Nan’s flesh and bones, nailing him firmly to the stone platform.

In the instant the spikes drove into him, Bai Ke caught a glimpse of Shen Han flinching violently, covering her mouth to stifle a scream. Yet he couldn’t spare a thought for Shen Han’s reaction. His own limbs and chest ached as if he himself were being impaled by the spikes.

He would rather it had been his own body.

As the spikes embedded into the platform, the entire structure began to buzz and tremble as if activating a hidden mechanism.

Wu Nan’s face turned pale, but he remained silent. His clenched jaw tightened to the point that the bones near his cheeks visibly tensed. Despite the pain, he continued his grim task. Bai Ke could see his lips move soundlessly, and from the five impaled points, fresh blood gushed out, flowing freely.

The blood pooled around his limbs, forming a dazzlingcontrast against his pale skin.

Wu Nan’s eyes half-closed as he called softly, “Junior Sister.”

Outside the stone platform, Shen Han jolted violently, as if waking from a trance. She took a deep breath, then adjusted her posture, sitting cross-legged in midair. Harnessing the power of the swirling wind blades, she gathered the dense energy and spiritual force in her palms, channeling it outward. With her index finger slightly bent, she used the void as her canvas, delicately inscribing intricate runes into the wind blades with a combination of strength and grace.

As the final stroke landed, she gave a sharp cry. The blood pooling around Wu Nan’s limbs suddenly seemed to come alive, flowing along the surface of the stone platform in winding, serpentine trails.

The bright red blood moved like living snakes, extending in all directions at differing paces, twisting and turning.

Before long… countless bloodlines converged above Wu Nan’s head, linking together into a single thread.

From Bai Ke’s perspective, he could see the sprawling trails of blood carving out a massive rune on the stone platform, encircling Wu Nan entirely.

But this was far from over. Wu Nan’s blood showed no signs of stopping.

In the center of the glyph-like formation, a surface resembling a water-like mirror suddenly emerged. However, the scene within the mirror was not the same as the one outside—

It showed a stone chamber, at the center of which lay a bed of ice exuding a cold aura. Upon the icy bed rested Bai Lingchen, his face devoid of any color, his breaths so faint they were nearly imperceptible. Sitting beside the bed, with his hands raised, was none other than Junxiao.

Yet this Junxiao was almost unrecognizable. He was emaciated to the point of being gaunt, his dry and cracked lips scarred by multiple fissures, and his cheeks hollowed. Exhaustion radiated from his complexion, revealing the toll on his body and spirit. His spiritual energy and lifeforce were nearly depleted, and he seemed moments away from collapsing into unconsciousness.

Even so, he remained steadfast, his arms raised and unwavering. The faint golden aura of energy flowed continuously from his palms, channeling into the formation beneath Bai Lingchen’s bed.

As Shen Han maintained the protective barrier of the formation, she couldn’t resist opening her eyes for a brief glance at the scene in the mirror. Her eyes reddened once more at the sight.

Her spiritual energy trembled slightly with her wavering emotions. Realizing this, she forcibly suppressed the grief in her heart, closed her eyes again, and steadied her energy flow.

On the stone platform, Wu Nan’s blood continued to flow without pause, gathering into an immense surge of spiritual power that poured from his heart and flowed into the mirrored formation.

Junxiao, seated beside the ice bed, seemed to sense something and abruptly opened his eyes, his brows furrowing deeply.

But by now, Wu Nan and the others had no time to concern themselves with such things.

Once the formation was activated, it operated with a terrifying intensity, as if it had gone mad. The blood flowed ceaselessly, and instead of slowing, the pace quickened. The spiritual energy and lifeforce surging from Wu Nan’s heart grew increasingly fierce, to the point where it seemed uncontrollable.

Forbidden techniques are called so for a reason.

Wu Nan understood this. Shen Han understood it too.

Wu Nan had said that the formation, under normal conditions, would not claim lives. But if everything worked under normal conditions, would it still be called forbidden?

He had long prepared himself for the possibility that, if anything went wrong, he might have to sacrifice his life to save his master. He simply hadn’t voiced it aloud. Similarly, Shen Han had prepared herself to do the same—to lay down her life if needed to protect both her senior brother and their master. She just hadn’t said it out loud either.

In some unspoken way, they both understood each other perfectly.

As Wu Nan lost more blood, his entire being began to grow hazy and faint. Bai Ke noticed his hands, pinned to the stone platform, twitch slightly. His lips moved as though trying to speak, but no sound came out.

Even in such a state, Wu Nan continued to hold on. The formation was not yet complete. There was still one final step to take before it could be fully activated, and it required the very last vestiges of his blood. However, his consciousness was nearly gone, and despite his efforts, his fingers could barely twitch, let alone rise to complete the task.

Shen Han opened her eyes and saw Wu Nan, drained of strength and on the verge of collapse. She froze momentarily but quickly composed herself. Pressing her lips tightly together, she raised her hand and began inscribing new runes in the void, using her fingers as blades.

Of the three siblings, Wu Nan was undoubtedly the most skilled in formations, while Shen Han was the least adept. Yet, at this moment, it was as if she had practiced this for an eternity. The intricate runes seemed to flow from her with ease, as if she had been preparing for this very moment all along.

As her strokes fell into place and the runes were completed, Wu Nan’s body jolted sharply. His hazy consciousness cleared, and his eyes snapped open in surprise. He felt a surge of robust spiritual energy and vitality being drawn from Shen Han’s body, pouring directly into his meridians in an overwhelming rush.

 

Translator : DarNan