Everything within the ancient tomb was fragmented and revealed its true form, as if torn apart by a howling, dense阴气. ——the winding, quiet path, the weathered, desolate houses, wooden doors adorned with faded, blackened red paper, with withered roots and dry moss clinging to the corners of the walls... He was still in the village, still in his original place. All the previous journey through mountains and valleys, the constant weaving between tunnels and caves, had been nothing but a dream. After emerging from the illusion, Zhang Yuanqing suddenly turned around, gazing at the serene, winding path behind him. A thick, ink-like阴气 surged forth from the far end of the path, rising in layers, like a dense plume of smoke. Directly before the swirling smoke, the small, weeping child was crying wildly. With swift, vigorous movements of his limbs, he crawled forward, his speed far exceeding what one would expect for his age, while the smoke-like阴气 relentlessly chased after him, threatening to engulf him at any moment. At this very moment, he relied entirely on his master, just as a child depends on its parents. Zhang Yuanqing felt a deep, internal chill, each nerve screaming "Flee!" every muscle tensing reflexively, adrenaline surging—not to support a battle, but to prevent his body from collapsing under the strain of running. The magic had broken; escape was still possible... Watching the small, clumsy figure being gradually engulfed by the "smoke," Zhang Yuanqing's face tightened with a sudden, sharp contraction. At that moment, he charged straight toward the small figure, toward the tidal wave of negative qi unleashed. Braving the odds, he pushed forward. Only when he faced that terrifying wave of negative qi did he truly grasp the small figure's terror—the force rushing toward him carried the might of an unstoppable current, and even before it reached him, it sent the night-wanderer's heart and courage reeling. This was the pressure exerted by a higher-ranked practitioner over a lower-ranked one of the same profession—just as the night-wanderer supersedes the spirit-being. In a surge of momentum, Zhang Yuanqing unfolded his Yin-Yang robe and donned it, summoning his Hou-Tu boots and putting them on while running. His steps instantly grew heavier, each footfall resonating with a deep, resonant thud, calming the previously turbulent energy within him. After rushing another dozen meters, his legs grew weak, his calf muscles spasming, his face now pale as paper. The closer he got to that wave of negative energy, the more terrified he became—like facing a natural adversary. No, he couldn't stop. He told himself firmly. Two faint glimmers appeared, transforming into the assailant's gloves and the explosive pistol. Hey! What was there to be afraid of? When people die, they just end up face-down—so what's the point of being timid now? As he grasped the two items, a sudden surge of resolve surged within him, banishing his fear. Ddnddnd! Finally, he reached the small, cheerful figure, opened his arms, and tightly embraced the infant spirit rushing toward him. At that very moment, a thick, ink-like negative energy surged before him. Zhang Yuanqing saw the swirling black smoke dissipate, revealing a pair of embroidered shoes and a red, pleated skirt. Then, the "black smoke" peeled away from the full, towering bust, like a curtain being drawn aside, to reveal a graceful jawline. Finally, a stunningly beautiful face emerged. The village widow had not been wrong—this woman was indeed handsome, though remarkably pale, pale to a disturbing degree. What was most terrifying were her eyes: her eye sockets were completely filled with dark energy, and her pupils glowed a deep, gem-like crimson. Zhang Yuanqing's body shook violently; his teeth clattered against one another, producing a sharp, continuous "crack-crack" sound. His face lost all color, as pale as the red-skirted woman. Yet his heart pounded fiercely, working beyond capacity, its powerful beats clearly visible through the rising and falling of his chest. A tremendous fear erupted within Zhang Yuanqing—this was, aside from the Demon-Eye King, the most formidable adversary he had ever faced. The Demon-Eye King lacked the commanding presence that could suppress the Night-Wanderer God, but this red-robed woman was different. Clearly, she had been a powerful Night-Wanderer God—no, a Star Official, in her lifetime. Her dark, bloodshot pupils, devoid of any emotion, fixed steadily upon Zhang Yuanqing. She slowly raised her hand, her sleeve sliding down to reveal a pale yet graceful hand. That hand reached toward the base of Zhang Yuanqing’s neck. With a thunderous burst, Zhang Yuanqing’s emotions exploded. Under the brink of death, the fierce, all-consuming rage that had been burning within him momentarily overpowered his fear. The light of his right boot flared, thick and slightly viscous, yellow. His right leg muscles contracted, bulging and tearing the fabric of his trousers. Crack! Zhang Yuanqing delivered a powerful whipping leg, striking the pale, graceful hand that had reached for him. The hand paused, then slowly rotated to face upward. Crack! Zhang Yuanqing's whip leg struck precisely the palm of the woman in red dress, and then her foot was grasped. "Crack... crack..." Zhang Yuanqing heard the sound of her foot bones shattering. That hand, though delicate and beautiful, possessed an unmatched strength. More terrifying still, the decisive leg strike from his Houshui boots failed to cause even the slightest tremor in that graceful, pale hand. Unconquerable, unconquerable... Zhang Yuanqing's determination to "dry her out" swiftly faded. He seemed to have lost his senses, acting recklessly, pressing his hands against his chest without regard. "Boom!" A powerful gust of wind and blazing red flames lifted the princess's skirt and ruffled her dark hair, while her face remained cold and rigid. Seeing that the shockwave could not drive the princess back, Zhang Yuanqing muttered under his breath, "Damn it!" If the Houshui boots couldn't push her back, why did he think his extraordinary gloves would make any difference? Worst of all, this delay had wasted precious time that could have saved her life. The Princess released her feet, her delicate, pale hand reaching again and nearly brushing against his neck. Zhang Yuanqing's neck instantly coated with a layer of white frost. At the critical moment, Zhang Yuanqing pressed the drum button on the Cat King speaker and summoned the Red Slippers simultaneously. Thud! Thud! Thud! The deep, thunderous drumming tore through the eardrums, affecting all spiritual and mental beings, causing listeners to feel their inner voices tremble and their spirits to shake. The Princess's hand paused imperceptibly. Two streaks of red light enveloped Zhang Yuanqing's feet, and as soon as they settled, his body collapsed without warning, his body arching into a split to avoid her hand. Hearing the drumming, the Princess's cold, fierce eyes seemed to contract slightly, then grew even more intense, with black veins rising prominently across her pale cheeks. Though her face remained rigid, Zhang Yuanqing clearly felt the surge of her rage. Had the drumming provoked her fury? No, the drum sound doesn't have that capability... Zhang Yuanqing was momentarily stunned, then it struck him. The Demon King! The Demon King had also entered this realm before—back then, he must have been carrying the Cat King speaker. The drum sound had stirred the Princess, seemingly triggering unpleasant memories... Hey! What exactly had the Demon King done to her back then?! Zhang Yuanqing cursed internally. Under the control of the Red Slippers, he leapt into the air with a spring from his legs, rushing toward the village outskirts. The Red Slippers were unaffected by the Princess's influence. Despite the pain in his right foot, Zhang Yuanqing hurriedly silenced the drum sound and turned around, his pupils constricting dramatically. The thick, smoky negative energy coalesced into a hand larger than a house, reaching out to grasp him. Within the palm was the furious Princess. The hand, like a collapsing building, crashed down toward the figure and the corpse rushing ahead. Seeing this, Zhang Yuanqing's spiritual form instantly split into two—merging with the shadow corpse—and simultaneously summoned from his inventory a thin, translucent human-like membrane. A perfect human skin! He flung the prop hard toward the deceased No. 1 behind him. Deceased No. 1 (Zhang Yuanqing) caught it and covered his head with it. The humanoid membrane melted into a liquid, spreading over him. In the next instant, Deceased No. 1 transformed into a young man in his early twenties—fresh-faced and vibrant. It was clearly Zhang Yuanqing. Zhang Yuanqing turned and fled into a narrow side path, separating from his original form. The massive hand that had been descending seemed affected by an unseen force, hovering midair, briefly struggling before pursuing the now-transformed Zhang Yuanqing. "Phew—didn't catch up!" Realizing the surging waves of yin qi chasing after the transformed corpse, Zhang Yuanqing felt a surge of relief at having narrowly escaped, coupled with exhaustion from emotional strain. Without pausing, Zhang Yuanqing urged the Red Slippers forward, toward the fields and then toward the rear mountains. He needed to use the Red Slippers to bypass terrain obstacles and avoid expending physical energy, so he could reach the ancient tomb in one continuous stride. The No. 1 one won't last much longer—no, it won't even make it far. It will soon be killed by the Princess. The ancient tomb is the true sanctuary, not just safety once outside the village. The Princess will surely pursue and eliminate it. Zhang Yuanqing moved with ease across the undulating terrain and massive outcropping rock walls, heading toward the tunnel he remembered. Though all he had seen so far were illusions, Zhang believed they were not mere fantasies, but a carefully constructed reality. The reason was simple: he had never visited the tomb, yet everything there—its architecture, its burial goods—was so real, so well grounded, that it had convinced him. That bronze mirror was unearthed from the tomb, and it was the only thing he knew about it, which allowed it to create such a seamless illusion. A few minutes later, Zhang Yuanqing reached the tunnel within the illusion. His analysis was correct—the ancient tomb was indeed located here. "Unlocked!" Zhang Yuanqing immediately switched off the red ballet slippers' wearing mode and swiftly jumped into the tunnel, moving forward through the narrow passage. The red ballet slippers followed with a steady tap-tap-tap, and information appeared above: 【Would you like to dance with me…?】 It seemed as though the slippers were persistently chasing after Zhang Yuanqing, begging for a dance. After traversing the tunnel, Zhang Yuanqing leapt into the tomb chamber, taking in the surroundings. There, he indeed spotted the four attendant maids and guards carved in stone, their cracks and broken limbs perfectly matching the setting. Only then did he feel at ease, sinking to the ground with a heavy breath. The air inside the chamber felt heavy and somewhat stagnant—clearly lacking in oxygen, unlike the atmosphere within the realm of illusion. "I didn't notice this detail at all. Oh well, lacking experience in tomb exploration, I've certainly made a few missteps," Zhang Yuanqing sighed. Tap-tap-tap… The red ballet slippers followed him into the chamber, arriving beside him, and then lifted his left foot to tap him lightly. Would you like to dance with me for a while...? If the host fails to pay a price within a short period, the Red Dance Shoes will grow less fond of him and begin to pursue him relentlessly. A single kick from you signifies that the Red Dance Shoes no longer love him. "Of course, of course..." Zhang Yuanqing rose reluctantly, bracing against the sharp pain in his foot, and danced with the Red Dance Shoes until the end. He felt his foot injury had worsened. He then collected the Red Dance Shoes and sank to the ground, making every effort to avoid moving his injured right foot. It was precisely thanks to the Houtu Boots that he managed to complete the tap dance despite the shattered bones in his foot— —A sincere and steady person truly possesses remarkable endurance! Sometimes, the cost of a prop is itself a form of ability. For instance, it was the combination of the Brute's Gloves and the Bursting Pistol—two fire master's props—that enabled him to overcome his inner fear and withstand the weight of the higher-ranking figures. This foundation will underpin Zhang Yuanqing's subsequent actions. Although this resulted in some hasty, even foolish actions, the overall outcome was beneficial. Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure, unimaginably strong, surged from above. Zhang Yuanqing stiffened instinctively, curling up and tensely lifting his head to observe. The Princess had arrived—she was coming after him. He watched in growing anxiety for a long time, until the pressure hovered above and then gradually receded. "She's gone?" Zhang Yuanqing exhaled deeply, then pressed his chest, feeling a pang of sorrow. "Unfortunately, we've lost one of the shadow corpses..." Using the "bear consequences" attribute of the perfect human skin—making the shadow corpse serve as a sacrificial substitute—was an idea that flashed to him during the crisis. Fu Qingyang was right: the more perilous the moment, the more his potential would unfold. Though cursed and somewhat frustrating, the perfect human skin, in essence, was an indomitable divine artifact. "I hope the Princess won't reclaim the item; otherwise, this quest will truly be a loss. Zhang Yuanqing stood up and directed his gaze toward the corridor door, toward the main tomb. In the previous vision, the coffins and boxes could not be opened; now he wanted to see if they could be opened in reality.