Golden light erupted from my body as Iunched myself toward the headless guardian. My fists connected with its massive chest, channeling every ounce of power I possessed into the strike.


    The impact sent shockwaves through the chamber, dust raining from the ceiling. For a moment, I believed I''d gained the upper hand.


    Then reality hit harder than my attack.


    The headless figure stood unmoved, my golden light shattering against its form like ss on stone. It grabbed my arm with frightening speed, its grip crushing.


    "Impossible," I gasped.


    With casual strength, it hurled me across the chamber. I crashed into the far wall, pain exploding through my already broken hand and now my shoulder too. Stone cracked behind me from the impact.


    I slid to the floor, momentarily stunned. My golden aura flickered weakly.


    "I told you!" The Man with the Mustache called from the safety of the corridor. "Mighty Realm cultivators are beyond your current level!"


    Spitting blood, I pushed myself back to my feet. "You''re not helping!"


    The headless figure stalked toward me, each footstep cracking the ancient stone floor. Its power was overwhelming—like nothing I''d encountered before.


    My Saintly Body Skill, which had torn through Martial Lords and even challenged Martial Marquises, was useless against this abomination. It was a harsh reminder of how far I still had to go.


    "We need to retreat!" The Man with the Mustache shouted. "There''s no shame in running when you''re outmatched!"


    Easy for him to say. He was already halfway down the escape tunnel.


    I gathered my strength, focusing on my crimson sword. If physical attacks wouldn''t work, maybe spiritual ones would.


    Channeling my energy into the de, Iunched a crescent of crimson force toward the headless guardian. The energy wave cut through the air with a threatening hiss.


    The guardian didn''t even try to dodge. The crimson wave struck its chest—and dissipated like morning mist, leaving not even a scratch on its ancient form.


    "You''ve got to be kidding me," I muttered.


    Fear threatened to overtake me. I''d faced powerful opponents before, but this was different. This creature wasn''t just stronger—it seemed untouchable.


    The guardian raised its ancient sword, the rusted metal somehow still deadly sharp. I rolled aside as it brought the de down, the weapon cleaving through stone where I''d been standing.


    I needed something more powerful. Something with real cutting force.


    The Nine shes technique shed through my mind. Jackson Harding''s ultimate sword art might be my only chance.


    I steadied my breathing, ignoring the pain radiating from my broken hand and injured shoulder. The first two shes wouldn''t be enough—I needed to skip straight to the third, the most powerful I could currently manage.


    "Third sh: Heaven Splitting Strike!" I roared, channeling every bit of my remaining energy into my crimson de.


    The air itself seemed to part as my sword moved. Light and shadow twisted around the de as it descended toward the headless guardian in a perfect, devastating arc.


    The chamber filled with blinding light as my attack connected. Stone cracked beneath our feet from the sheer force.


    When the light faded, I stared in disbelief.


    The headless guardian still stood. My most powerful attack had left only a shallow scratch across its chest, from which oozed a thick, ck substance that might once have been blood.


    "This can''t be real," I whispered, backing away.


    "Mighty Realm cultivators have bodies tempered by heavenly forces!" The Man with the Mustache called. "Their physical forms are practically indestructible!"


    The guardian touched the wound on its chest, examining the ck fluid on its fingers. For the first time, it seemed to acknowledge me as a threat—however minor.


    It moved with renewed purpose, closing the distance between us faster than my eyes could track. Its fist connected with my chest before I could react.


    Pain exploded through my body as I was sent flying again, this time crashing through a stone pir before hitting the wall. I felt ribs crack, my vision swimming with ck spots.


    I needed to buy time. Something bigger.


    With trembling hands, I formed the seal Jackson had taught me.


    "Venerable Fifth Mountain, I summon thee!"


    My remaining energy surged outward. The spectral form of a massive mountain materialized above the headless guardian, its peak sharp as a de, its weight crushing even as an illusion.


    The mountain descended with overwhelming force, enough to tten a Martial Lord.


    The guardian looked up, sensing the attack. Then, unbelievably, it raised both arms and caught the spectral mountain.


    "No way," I choked out.


    With a flex of its enormous muscles, the guardian hurled my summoned mountain aside. The spectral formation shattered against the chamber wall, dispersing into motes of light.


    I had nothing left. My energy reserves were depleted, my most powerful techniques proven worthless.


    "Time to run," I decided, turning toward the escape tunnel.


    Toote. The guardian appeared before me, blocking my path. Its headless form somehow conveyed a sense of terrible purpose. It had been disturbed from centuries of rest, and it would not allow me to leave alive.


    It drew back its fist for what would surely be a killing blow. <mark ss="meta-ref-static">Help us out by reading on *.</mark>


    I raised my arms in a futile defense, knowing it wouldn''t be enough.


    The fist drove forward with unstoppable force.


    Then—impossibly—it stopped, frozen inches from my face.


    Glowing characters appeared in the air above the guardian''s body, circling its form in chains of shimmering light. The symbols pulsed with ancient power, binding the headless figure in ce.


    "What the...?" I gasped, stumbling backward.


    "Daoist Containment Script," came The Man with the Mustache''s voice as he stepped cautiously back into the chamber. "Very old, very difficult to execute. You''re wee, by the way."


    I stared at him in disbelief. "You knew how to stop it this whole time?"


    He shrugged, twirling his mustache nervously. "I wasn''t sure it would work. These techniques are tricky—one wrong character and it backfires spectacrly." He grinned. "But seeing you about to die provided excellent motivation for perfect execution."


    "You''re unbelievable," I muttered, wincing as I probed my injured ribs.


    "I prefer ''strategically cautious.''" He approached the immobilized guardian, examining it with professional interest. "Fascinating specimen. Must have been one of the sect''s elite warriors, judging by the quality of physical preservation."


    I limped over, keeping a safe distance from the frozen figure. "How long will your script hold it?"


    "Hard to say. Minutes? Hours?" He shrugged. "Ancient corpse guardians are unpredictable. The binding draws power from ambient energy, which is plentiful here, but his resistance is substantial."


    The guardian strained against its invisible bonds, the glowing characters flickering momentarily.


    "Let''s not wait to find out," I suggested, heading toward the exit.


    The Man with the Mustache didn''t move. Instead, he circled the guardian, studying it with growing excitement.


    "What are you doing?" I asked. "We need to leave."


    "Do you realize what this is?" he asked, gesturing to the immobilized figure. "This is the perfectly preserved body of a Mighty Realm cultivator! Do you know how rare such specimens are?"


    I frowned. "I don''t care. It nearly killed me."


    "But think of the possibilities!" His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "Mighty Realm bodies are treasures in themselves! The bones alone—do you have any idea what weapons could be forged from such material?"


    That caught my attention. "Weapons?"


    "Absolutely! Mighty Realm cultivators have bodies tempered by heavenly forces. Their bones, even centuries after death, contain incredible power." He ran his fingers through his mustache thoughtfully. "A weapon made from such material would be exponentially more powerful than ordinary artifacts."


    I looked at the headless guardian with new interest. "How would we even harvest such material?"


    "With difficulty," he admitted. "But I have methods. Special tools designed for extracting resources from powerful remains."


    The guardian strained against its bonds again, the glowing characters flickering more intensely.


    "We should decide quickly," I said.


    The Man with the Mustache nodded, pulling various instruments from his pack. "Help me secure additional bindings. We''ll need to—"


    He was interrupted by a loud crack as one of the glowing characters shattered. The guardian''s arm moved slightly, breaking free of the invisible restraint.


    "On second thought," he said, hastily repacking his tools, "perhaps this particr specimen is too active for harvesting."


    Another character broke, then another. The guardian''s movements became less restricted with each failure in the binding.


    "Time to go," I said, grabbing the Man with the Mustache''s arm.


    "Wait!" He pulled away, his eyes wide with sudden realization. "The skulls! Remember the great hall we passed through? Those ceremonial skulls on disy?"


    "What about them?"


    "If they belonged to sect members of simr rank, they could be just as valuable! And already separated from their bodies, which simplifies matters considerably."


    The final character in his binding script shattered. The headless guardian flexed its massive arms, free once more.


    "Run now, talkter!" I shouted, bolting toward the exit.


    This time, the Man with the Mustache didn''t argue. We raced down the corridor, the heavy footsteps of the guardian echoing behind us.


    "Left here!" he gasped as we reached a junction. "The passage narrows—might slow it down!"


    We veered left, squeezing through a tight passage that forced us to turn sideways. Behind us, the sound of stone cracking suggested our pursuer wasn''t bothered by the narrow constraints.


    "There are their skulls in the Great Hall," I said betweenbored breaths, my broken ribs screaming in protest with every step. "Maybe we can try refining them into weapons!"


    The Man with the Mustache''s eyes lit up. "Yes! Follow me!"


    We burst into arger corridor, the footsteps of the guardian growing more distant as the narrow passage temporarily dyed it.


    "This way!" I called, taking the lead and running toward where I remembered the Great Hall to be.


    If those skulls truly contained even a fraction of the power I''d just witnessed, they might be exactly what I needed to grow stronger—and one step closer to saving Isabelle.