A gentle zephyr stirred the emerald tapestry of the land, causing both the man and woman’s garments to dance in its embrace.

The man gazed upon the ground, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “This warding,” he mused, “it echoes with ancient techniques, tinctured with a hint of celestial weaving. Not a simple feat!” Beside him, the woman gracefully brushed a strand of raven hair from her ear, her gaze mirroring his own. “The ancient methods are skillfully rendered,” she murmured, “but the celestial touch feels…raw, as if newly discovered.”

He nodded in agreement. “Likely the work of a cultivator with access to ancient lore. Such proficiency suggests millennia of dedicated practice.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Not necessarily. You haven’t witnessed the artisan at work.”

He laughed, a warm, resonant sound. “Jüan’er, are you testing your husband? I propose a wager. If the creator of this ward has not walked this earth for ten thousand years, I concede defeat.”

She covered her mouth with a delicate hand, her eyes filled with affection. “A mere ward? Why does it so intrigue the esteemed Cloud Immortal King, he who claims mastery over all enchantments?”

He smiled knowingly. “You deflect. Even you must recognize the ingenuity woven within this unassuming barrier. To any but the keenest observer, it would pass unnoticed.”

He continued, “It holds no malice, no intent to slay, yet it whispers to the soul. Any who trespass within its bounds would be instantly revealed to the one who laid it.”

“Yet that is not all. Observe!” He gestured towards the grassy expanse before them. The wind rippled through it, seemingly ordinary.

His eyes shone with an uncanny light. “Unless I err, this is no solitary ward, but a chain, interlocked and layered. To shatter one without unraveling all in the same breath would betray the intruder’s presence.” He extended his hand, the wind at his command, flattening all but a single blade of grass that continued to sway.

“To conjure a ward from thin air is the craft of an apprentice. To weave it into the fabric of the world is more advanced. But this blade, Jüan’er, examine it closely. Does it not hold a secret?”

Her brow furrowed, surprise etched upon her face. She knew Wang Wei well. Though affable, he transformed when confronted with matters of enchantment. Rare was the ward that captured his attention, rarer still to see such wonder in his gaze.

She studied the lone blade, her eyes widening. “Truth interwoven with falsehood!”

A smile played on his lips. With a flick of his wrist, the grass was severed, resting in his palm. “Indeed. The form is genuine, yet the lifeblood within is false.” He gently rubbed the blade between his fingers, releasing a wisp of white vapor. As the vapor dissipated, a single drop of jade-green liquid emerged.

This droplet, pure and flawless, pulsed with countless, interwoven glyphs, a dizzying tapestry of arcane symbols.

His voice was hushed with reverence. “A thousand wards contained within this single tear, each linked in perfect harmony, forming an unbreakable whole. Though the components are simple, their union is sublime. Only one who has walked ten thousand years, weathered the storms of existence, and gazed upon the face of death could possess the insight, the patience to achieve such a feat!”

He said further, “For without the wisdom of ages, how can one comprehend the human heart? How can one truly understand the delicate dance between life and death? How can one forge a soul as intricate as a celestial machine?”

He sighed, a hint of melancholy in his voice. “Warding has little to do with inherent talent, but everything to do with spirit, with the very essence of the soul!”

Jüan’er’s eyes softened. “Do not dwell on such thoughts. Did you not propose a wager? I maintain that the creator of this ward has not tasted ten thousand years.”

He laughed, the shadows of the past receding from his eyes. He met her gaze, his voice filled with affection. “Very well! We shall wait here, and witness the truth! And perhaps, witness the emergence of the Star Wolf!”

She chuckled. “If the Star Wolf encounters us, what reaction shall we find? Rebellion, or a docile surrender of the talisman?”

“He dare not resist!” he declared, his tone light, yet ringing with undeniable power.

From the moment the Star Wolf had trespassed into the Demon Spirit Lands, his passage had been known to the immortal couple. For they had spent millennia within its boundaries, delving into the secrets of its hidden realms, claiming treasures beyond measure.

Wang Wei, beyond his mastery of wards, was a skilled diviner, second only to the legendary Sky Fortune Teller. He had foreseen the Star Wolf’s path, and the talisman he sought. But the talisman held a peculiar magic, obtainable only at a precise moment. Thus, they had bided their time, waiting for the perfect alignment before arriving at the Fire Demon Prefecture’s gate.

But leaving them for now, within the depths of the Tide Abyss, Wang Lin navigated the swirling currents atop his enchanted blade, hurtling towards the gate of the Fire Demon Prefecture like a bolt of celestial lightning.

Zhōu Yi’s speed was unparalleled. Within days, he had followed the twisting corridors to the chasm that led to the Fire Demon Prefecture, from which it would only take a single leap to escape the Tide Abyss.

The gate of the Fire Demon Prefecture was unique within the Tide Abyss, for instead of a downward pull, a force propelled one upwards.

Here, speed multiplied as if granted by the heavens, carrying one towards the surface.

Flying through the chasm, Wang Lin’s face remained impassive, his eyes focused on the path ahead. The walls blurred into streaks of light, hissing past his ears.

Suddenly, his blade faltered, circling before coming to a complete stop. Zhōu Yi’s mental voice echoed within him.

“Wang Lin, something is amiss. My sword sense has detected a violet mist ahead, within which several cultivators appear to be trapped. The mist is strange, hindering my ability to perceive it fully.”

“Trapped cultivators?” Wang Lin had not encountered Murong Zhuō or the sisters Zhào and Xú. Could it be them?

As Wang Lin and Zhōu Yi paused, a swarm of monstrous mosquitoes surged from the other side of the violet mist, their crimson eyes fixated on the barrier, burning with ravenous hunger.

Their very appearance was a nightmare, magnified by the ferocity in their eyes.

They beat their wings, creating a deafening hum that reverberated through the chasm, though the unique topography of the Fire Demon Prefecture, coupled with the upward currents, prevented the sound from traveling far.

Each mosquito was immense, yet their abdomens were gaunt, evidence of prolonged starvation. Their proboscises gleamed with chilling sharpness, like a cluster of swords. Their bodies were not uniformly black, many were grey, covered with bristly hairs that appeared as sharp as thorns.

They circled the violet mist, never venturing too close, their bloodlust growing with each passing moment.

Scraps of tattered cloth and dried blood clung to the walls of the abyss, along with a massive, blackened greatsword.

Occasionally, two mosquitoes would accidentally touch proboscises, sending sparks and aggravated buzzing through the swarm, as if they were about to tear each other apart.

Whenever such a conflict erupted, a piercing shriek would emanate from the heart of the mosquito swarm, a sound that quelled their savage instincts, however briefly.

Yet, with each passing moment, the rage and hunger of the mosquitoes became increasingly difficult to contain. Two of the creatures touched once more, their eyes burning with unrestrained fury. They shrieked and lunged at each other, locked in a deadly dance.

Another screech tore through the air, causing the pair to hesitate, but their rage overrode the command. They continued their brutal assault.

A third screech resounded, this time parting the swarm, revealing a creature ten zhang in length, its body tinged with a pale violet hue.

Seven silver needles pierced its head, pulsing with a faint energy that caused the monstrous mosquito to grimace in pain. Its appearance instantly quelled the two brawling mosquitoes, their eyes now burning with submission.

The purple-tinged mosquito hissed, a sound of authority, and every mosquito trembled. It flapped its wings, moving like lightning towards the battling pair, piercing them with its massive proboscis. In an instant, the two mosquitoes shriveled, drained of life, and fell as withered husks.

The monstrous mosquito turned, glaring at the surrounding swarm. The others responded with cries of fealty. The larger mosquito slowly moved back into the depths of the swarm, radiating an aura of undeniable dread.