Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

At that very moment—

A figure in moonlight fell silently from the rock wall above the stone gate.

No one saw how he arrived. He was like a gust of wind, a shadow, appearing silently in the instant when the King of the East Sea was most focused, and placed his palm on the blood bead in the center of the stone gate.

"Smack."

A crisp cracking sound.

The blood droplet split into three pieces, rolled out of the groove, and smashed into powder on the rock. The ancient runes that had just lit up instantly dimmed and were covered by darkness again.

The King of the East Sea suddenly turned around.

A middle-aged scholar dressed in a moon-white long robe stood in front of the stone gate, looking down at the bloodstains on his palm, and seemed to dust off his fingers with some disgust.

"You—" The King of the East Sea's voice suddenly turned extremely cold, "Who are you?"

"The King of Reincarnation in the Underworld, Shi Zhixuan."

The scholar looked up and smiled. "I'm a little late, sorry. I was delayed for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn in the mirror array at the sixth level of the restriction. The methods set up by the King of the East Sea are indeed ingenious."

The King of the East Sea's pupils contracted sharply. He had secretly added multiple cycles to the sixth layer of the mirror array, enough to trap a half-step Celestial Being for at least three days. This person only used the time it takes for an incense stick to burn?

Shi Zhixuan seemed to see through his thoughts and shook his head slightly:

"I dismantled the entire mirror array you left in the sixth layer of restrictions, and also explored two side paths that you hadn't marked on the incomplete map, and saw a few interesting things."

For example, you once carved the words 'forty-seven times' on a stone wall at a certain fork in the road—the number of times the King of the East Sea landed on the island to explore was a full forty more than you said.

The King of the East Sea's face changed from gloomy to ashen, and then from ashen to an extreme calm.

He looked down at the blood droplets shattered into powder, then glanced at the extra bursts of blood energy emanating from the three kings due to the fierce battle, and suddenly smiled.

"King of the Wheel, you stopped me from taking blood, but you can't stop the remaining blood that the door has already absorbed. Once this door has absorbed enough blood, even if the blood droplets shatter, the afterimage will automatically imprint itself on them—look, it has already begun to leave."

Shi Zhixuan suddenly turned his head to look at the bottom of the groove in the stone door. There, an extremely faint golden line, as thin as a hair, had appeared, slowly extending from the edge of the groove towards the center.

The blood and qi scattered by the three kings in the battle were still floating in the air, converging on their own toward the golden line, like iron filings being attracted.

"The gate has already memorized the scent of the three kings' blood."

The King of the East Sea slowly retreated to the outer edge of the stone gate.

"The gate has been devouring us since the first puppet was slain and the first drop of blood was spilled. I merely accelerated this process with the blood droplet. If you had arrived an incense stick earlier, perhaps you could have stopped it. But now—"

He raised his hand and pointed to the gold line.

"Its shape is already visible."

Golden lines slowly extended across the ground, coalescing into a fragmented ancient character. The strokes of that character were solemn and imposing; even the outline of it sent chills down one's spine.

The entire Penglai Island suddenly trembled.

Everyone heard a sound—a dull, heart-pounding "thump" coming from deep within the stone gate.

First word.

Then came the second tone, then the third. It got faster and faster.

The entire floating island began to slowly sink, and the unseen force supporting the island was disappearing.

The seawater boiled, and dark red spray splashed onto the stone steps with a hissing sound. Countless dark red cracks appeared in the sky around the island, and the light shining through the cracks dyed the entire East China Sea and sky blood red.

The King of the East Sea laughed loudly, a strange sense of relief lurking within his voice:

"It's open! It's open! It'll definitely open within seven days! Hahaha!"

Shi Zhixuan slammed his palm against the stone door, the full force of a half-step celestial being smashing into the door.

The stone gate remained unmoved, instead rebounding the force and causing Shi Zhixuan to stagger back three steps.

He looked down at his palm—the hand that had struck the stone gate earlier, with beads of blood seeping from its fingertips.

"This door..."

He hesitated for a moment, then suddenly his expression changed. "What's behind the door absorbing the force of the attack?"

The King of the East Sea had retreated to the edge of the stone steps, and his dozen or so followers had gathered around him.

He glanced at Shi Zhixuan and the three kings of the underworld one last time, his smile still there, but his eyes were extremely complicated.

"King of the Wheel, you tried to stop me from taking your blood today, but you couldn't stop the remaining blood that had already been sucked into the door."

"This door will open within seven days." He leaped backward, landing on the deck of the golden ship. "What will emerge from within seven days, even I don't know. But I do know—"

He paused.

"Penglai Island was never a tomb."

The golden ship turned around at full speed, heading towards the depths of the East China Sea, and disappeared into the blood-red mist in the blink of an eye.

Penglai Island continues to sink.

Shi Zhixuan steadied the swaying Song Que, then glanced at Tie Zhongtang and Jue Wushen's injuries.

The three were exhausted after a series of fierce battles. Song Que had only 20% of his sword intent left, and Tie Zhongtang was so badly injured that he could barely stand. His lifeless breathing was heavy and labored, like a bellows.

The stone steps were covered with their spilled blood—which was now evaporating into a pale red mist, drifting in wisps toward the golden line on the stone gate.

Shi Zhixuan squinted at the golden thread.

After absorbing the fog, it extended a little further, and the outline of the ancient characters became a little clearer than before.

"Evacuate first. This island is sinking and will be completely submerged within an hour."

It will surface again in seven days—and then the door will open.

The four men, along with the remaining sixty-three underworld warriors, retreated swiftly down the stone steps.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine stone steps receded rapidly beneath their feet, each step bearing the bloodstains left from their battle.

As they retreated, the bloodstains gradually faded and disappeared, turning into a blood mist that chased after them as they retreated toward the stone gate.

When they reached the 500th step, Shi Zhixuan suddenly stopped and looked back.

Throughout the stone staircase passage, the remains of all the tomb-guarding puppets that the three kings had previously slain—stone statue fragments, silver dust, and bronze armor plates—were reassembling themselves. However, the reassembled puppets were no longer human-shaped; instead, they were all facing the stone gate, as if in worship.

The corpse of the giant red-scaled python was also melting, its dark red flesh turning into mist that surged towards the mountaintop.

Shi Zhixuan turned around, grabbed Tie Zhongtang, and quickened his pace.

By the time they reached the black sand beach, two-thirds of Penglai Island had already sunk.

The gray stalagmites at the bottom of the island are breaking off one by one, plunging upside down into the seabed and stirring up towering waves.

With his last glance, Shi Zhixuan saw that the golden line on the stone gate had extended into a nearly complete Chinese character.

That character, with its three horizontal strokes and two vertical strokes, is simple, ancient, and exudes a suffocating sense of oppression between its strokes.

He didn't recognize the word.

But he remembered the direction of every stroke.

Pingyang County.

Dongfang Weiwo was sitting under a plum tree in the back office of the Zhenfu Division when the teacup in his hand suddenly cracked without warning.

The warm tea spilled all over his hand.

He looked down at the broken porcelain shards in his palm, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against the cracks in the porcelain surface—a wisp of extremely faint black mist seeped out from the cracks, as thin as a spider's thread, yet carrying an eerie chill that did not belong to this world.

He flipped his palm to intercept the wisp of black energy and dispersed it with his own energy, but his brows slowly furrowed.

He looked up again at the lingering dark red hue on the southeastern horizon, and the inexplicable sense of heaviness in his heart grew even heavier.

He recognized the shape of the crack in his palm—it was half an ancient character, with strokes exactly the same as a character he had seen on a broken stele twelve years ago.

At that time, he asked about the origin of the inscription, but no one could answer. They only said that it was a "heavenly taboo" from before the Qin Dynasty, when writing was not yet systematic.

A carrier pigeon landed on the windowsill, with a secret letter from the East Sea tied to its leg, the wax seal bearing the floral seal of the Wheel-Turning King.

He opened the letter.

After reading the last word, he held the letter to the flame of the lamp and lit it.

The ashes fell into the inkstone. He picked up his brush, dipped it in the ashes, and wrote only a note.

"I will personally go to the East Sea within seven days."

The carrier pigeon flapped its wings and flew away.

The plum tree shed another shoulder full of blossoms.