I pulled on the latch of the trap door, and a burst of cold air rushed out, curling around my fingers like a serpent made of frost. It carried the scent of damp stone and something faintly metallic, old blood or rusted iron.

The darkness below looked almost solid, a yawning pit that seemed deeper than it had any right to be.

My breath formed a pale cloud, the sudden chill prickling across my skin.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I stepped onto the first stone step. The trap door creaked as it eased shut behind me. Ye An and Song Song followed close behind.

“You have a secret basement?” Ye An asked. “I need one of these in my house too. Can you tell me who built it?”

I met her lone ice-blue eye and nodded. No need to waste time explaining.

We descended the stairwell. Unlike the above-ground part of the library, this place was entirely made of stone and looked ancient. The air was denser here. Moss crept along the cracks in the walls, and faint etchings lined the steps and corridor.

Each footstep echoed softly, dulled by the layers of dust blanketing the ground. Despite its age, the structure felt sturdy. After all, it had survived a heavenly calamity.

“Nobody built this for me,” I said. The way downstairs was longer than I had assumed, so we had the time for some small talk. “It was already here. They built the current library on top of it. This used to be part of the original one.”

At the bottom, we found what looked like an abandoned archive. Crumbling shelves lined the walls, most bare, though a few held rusted tools or mold-eaten scroll cases. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, decayed parchment, and timeworn wood.

A cracked stone table sat near the center, and in the corner, a collapsed bookcase lay scattered in pieces. Dust blanketed everything, muting even our enhanced vision.

Maybe I should turn this place into a lab someday. The foundation was solid, it was quiet, and it lay deep enough underground that no one would stumble upon it. With a few arrays and some renovation, it could become something great.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be here?” Song Song asked.

“No. He’s still here,” I said, walking to the far end of the basement and placing my hand on the wall.

It felt solid. My fingers ran over the cracked stone and the worn lines etched by time. Even though I knew this was an illusion array, it still amazed me.

I dug my fingers in and dragged them across the surface. But instead of stone crumbling under my touch, the wall folded like cloth. The illusion peeled away, shimmering into nothing.

The wall dissolved into specks of light, revealing a translucent, silver coffin that faintly glowed,

Inside lay a man with a scarred face, his features twisted in frozen agony. His arms and legs had been cleanly severed. What remained of his body was pale, cut up, emaciated, and eerily still. He looked half-dead and suspended in a state between life and death, locked in time by the array sealing him.

Even the blood spilling from his stumps had frozen mid-flow.

Ye An chuckled at the sight, though she tried to mask her laughter with a weak cough.

“Are you sure this is the guy who’s supposed to help us? He looks like he needs ours more than we need his.”

I didn’t answer. My attention had locked onto something far more worrying as I noticed a dark blotch on the corner of the array, like a moldy plague spreading along silver lines.

Holy shit. Was he corroding the array from the inside… with poison?

I pointed at the creeping rot, turning to Song Song. “He’s corroding the array.”

But how? His thoughts were supposed to be frozen inside; he shouldn't be able to use any techniques at all. Unless it was some kind of passive ability that constantly ran without conscious control…

Was this some freak coincidence? Or had he planned this?

This was a Level 6 array, strong enough to restrain a Core Formation cultivator. Yet here it was, weakening. For once, I agreed with Song Song: maybe letting this guy out wasn’t such a great idea after all.

I was accustomed to dealing with dangerous people, but Song San always found a way to surprise me. Like an elusive snake, he was hard to pin down and harder to predict.

“Could you have escaped this array if you’d been trapped in it?” Song Song asked suddenly.

What kind of question was that?

I opened my mouth to say no but paused.

The array suppressed conscious thought; that’s what made it so hard to break from the inside. But if I had a moment, just before activation… I could probably use my Foundation Technique to slow time long enough to program an automatic Qi response. It was a bit of a rock-paper-scissors situation.

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“…Yes,” I said at last. “But it wouldn’t be easy.”

Ye An looked between us, clearly confused. I didn’t bother explaining. My Foundation Technique was good, but it wasn’t infallible.

“I’m going to release him now,” I warned. “Be ready.”

I began forming hand seals. Qi gathered around my hands in tight, complex patterns. I dropped into a crouch and slapped both palms onto the stone floor.

From the point of contact, strange dark characters spread outward, crawling like ink toward the glowing silver coffin.

I activated my Foundation Technique the moment the symbols came into contact with the array. A subtle distortion rippled through the air. The runes on the coffin flickered and cracked, and then the entire silver seal shattered with a soft pop.

The coffin disintegrated into glowing fragments.

And Song San, what was left of him, collapsed onto the stone floor.

Just a torso and a head. No limbs. His body was gaunt, pale, and still. For a moment, I thought he might already be dead.

But then I saw his chest slowly rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He was still alive.

“Well, this is quite a strange feeling,” he said, his voice raspy. He looked like he wanted to say more but paused, frowning. “Feels like a lot of time has passed… and none of my Qi’s recovered from the fight!”

“Well, some time has passed,” I admitted, my eyes drifting to the stumps where his limbs used to be.

“Also, I can't sense beyond this room. Do you people really have to be so cautious against poor old me?” Song San said.

“Yes, we do,” I replied flatly. “That was the work of the elder in charge of arrays around the sect.”

“Don't talk about that guy just to come off like you’re not close. I know he’s your teacher,” Song San grumbled.

I shrugged, deciding not to dignify something that petty with a response.

Song San sighed at my indifference. “Also, I need to get these limbs fixed. Did any of you bother to save my separated limbs?”

“Not really,” I said.

I had, of course. But my teacher, the Poison Elder that Zun Gon had introduced me to, and I had been analyzing the limbs to try and identify exactly what poison he had used as his element so we could develop an antidote.

Because no matter how pitiful he tried to act now, this was still the same guy who once threatened to poison the entire sect to get his way. No one here believed he was a trustworthy ally.

The only thing I trusted was that Song Song and Ye An could deal with him easily if he tried anything.

“Well, don’t count me out just yet. I came across a technique a while back that’s supposed to help with crippling injuries. Found it in what I’m sure was some ancient sacrificial tomb. I was looking for antique poisons. Was planning to learn more and test it out later, but… that’s probably not happening now,” he said.

Damn. The more detailed the backstory, the more likely it was a lie. I’d never trusted Song San to begin with.

He raised his head from the ground and looked at his sister. “If it turns out I’ve lost cultivation potential because of this, I’m absolutely blaming you.”

“I don’t really care,” Song Song replied with a shrug.

“Cruel, but expected,” he said. “Did anyone at least save my storage ring? I had a ton of stuff in there that could help.”

“Yes. I have it,” I said, pulling a small box from my pocket. I popped it open, revealing a dark storage ring, and tossed it beside him.

The ring was laced with poison traps, meant to kill anyone who wasn’t Song San trying to open it. But as an array conjurer, I’d managed to take a peek inside.

Sadly, nothing groundbreaking. No secret technique scribbled down like an idiot might’ve done.

Just a bunch of monstrous beast corpses and nearly a hundred thousand spirit stones.

“Damn. Time to put in some maximum effort. Qi control’s never been my strong suit; I’ve always been more of a poison guy,” he muttered, voice edged with mock annoyance.

I wasn’t sure why he sounded so cheerful, considering he was still just a torso.

He drew in a breath, then used his Qi to slowly lift off the ground, his control shaky but functioning. A single unstable arm began to form, flickering like smoke, made entirely from writhing, dark Qi. It didn’t look like it would hold for long, but it was enough.

He slipped the ring onto one finger of the shadowy limb.

The moment it clicked into place, the storage ring activated. A dull pulse echoed outward, and with a dim flash, several monstrous beast corpses spilled onto the ground. One of them was especially eye-catching: a lion chimera, its enormous body stitched together with jagged seams of flesh, sporting two heads, one of a serpent, the other a goat.

The corpses twitched violently as if some lingering instinct resisted what was about to happen. Then, with a sickening squelch, their flesh began to bubble and twist.

Chunks tore away from their bodies, drawn toward Song San like iron filings to a magnet. The mass of meat churned mid-air, compressing, fusing, and reforming into grotesque, pulsating blobs. They looked more like muscle and sinew than finished limbs, writhing as though half-alive.

One by one, the flesh masses slammed into the stumps where his limbs had been severed.

Bones cracked. Veins laced together like ivy. Fingers sprouted like warped branches. It was a grotesque sight, unnatural in every way, but in seconds, he had new limbs.

They were larger than before, denser, bulging with monstrous strength. Claws replaced fingernails. Scales and patches of fur remained, and the aura they gave off was wild and barely restrained.

He flexed a hand, and it creaked under its own weight.

“Not perfect,” he muttered, examining the malformed but functional limbs, “but they’ll do.”

But then his expression shifted. He frowned and brought both hands to his forehead.

“Okay, first red flag: the beasts’ will seems to have entered my head. This isn’t good. Not a problem for now, but I’m going to need some Earth Grade mental techniques, soon. Do you happen to have any techniques like that in mind, Martial Technique Elder?”

“Nope,” I answered.

He sighed and pulled out two dark leather gloves and slipped them over his new hands, then retrieved a robe and draped it over his shoulders to hide the worst of his injuries. Last came a porcelain mask, which he slid over his scarred face.

“Come on. Let’s go kill some monstrous beasts and bond over it and develop a great relationship in the long run,” he said.

Fuck no.

I didn’t want this guy anywhere near me.