The indigo-blue light pillar pierced straight into the night sky, like a wedge nailed between heaven and earth, forcibly propping open this chaotic darkness.

Above the Bing-7 ruins, the originally violently raging spiritual energy flow field, because of the appearance of this light pillar, underwent a strange distortion.

Within three zhang around the light pillar, the air was as viscous as glue, countless tiny electric arcs danced and crackled on the ground.

Several isolated Dark Gold Hunter Insects cautiously approached. Their sensitive antennae had just probed into the light pillar's radiation range before jerking back as if electrocuted, their mouthparts emitting agitated hisses. It wasn't because the light pillar possessed any particularly powerful killing force, but because the extremely chaotic, constantly collapsing and reforming spiritual energy turbulent flow inside the pillar instilled a primal fear in these insects that relied on sensing spiritual energy fluctuations.

Su Ming stood directly beneath the light pillar.

His face was as pale as paper, a sign of weakness after the depletion of his vital essence and blood.

He didn't look at those red eyes lurking and peering from the darkness. Instead, he crouched down, using his finger as a brush, dipped in the blood overflowing from the corner of his mouth, and quickly sketched on the rubble-strewn ground around the light pillar.

His fingertip scraped across the rough ground, skin and flesh torn, yet he remained completely oblivious.

"Micro-Dust Confusing Trail Array".

This was a basic illusion formation, but in Su Ming's hands, those simple lines were given extremely tricky angles. He used the overloaded spiritual pressure radiating from the light pillar itself as an energy source, weaving these lines into a constantly changing maze.

"Disciple, this light is too bright."

Within the Consciousness Sea, Lin Yu's voice was unusually devoid of its usual teasing, instead carrying a trace of gravity. "We're like holding a torch in a pitch-black forest. What comes might not be rescuers, but more likely hungry wolves."

"That's still better than freezing to death in the darkness."

Su Ming didn't look up, his fingertip drawing the final stroke.

*Hum.*

The ground trembled slightly. A faint layer of gray mist rose around the light pillar, slightly obscuring that piercing indigo-blue glow, making it hazy and elusive.

The moment the formation was completed, from the shadows of the ruins to the east, came the sound of hurried and disorderly footsteps.

It was the sound of boot soles crushing tiles and rubble, accompanied by heavy panting and suppressed low cries.

Su Ming's hand gripping the sword tightened slightly. Though his body was weak, muscle memory instantly adjusted his posture into a ready-to-strike stance.

One, two, three.

More than a dozen utterly wretched figures stumbled and staggered out from the darkness.

Most of them were wounded, their magical robes tattered, and some even had missing arms, hastily bandaged with strips of cloth to stop the bleeding. Their eyes were unfocused, pupils still holding lingering, un-dissipated terror.

Yet, when they saw that light pillar standing tall amidst the gray mist, and the figure beneath it, though covered in blood, still standing sword in hand, all of them involuntarily stopped in their tracks.

In that instant, their willpower, on the verge of collapse, seemed to have found an anchor point to cling to.

No one spoke. They just silently drew closer to the light pillar, instinctively seeking the shelter of the light like moths to a flame.

Su Ming didn't drive them away, nor did he offer comfort. He just coldly swept his gaze over them and pointed to the outer perimeter of the confusing trail array he had just drawn.

"If you don't want to die, go move stones, surround this circle of formation lines."

His voice was hoarse, yet it carried an undeniable calmness.

The survivors were momentarily stunned, then, like spinning tops whipped into motion, they immediately got to work. At this desperate moment, even a cold command felt more reassuring than helpless comfort.

An old soldier who had lost a leg, leaning against a broken wall gasping for breath, heard this, paused, then without a word, struggled to crawl towards the nearest pile of rubble.

Unable to stand, he used his one functional hand to pull stones over one by one, piling them at the edge of the formation lines. His movements were slow but exceptionally determined.

Another young soldier, his face covered in blood, looking no more than fifteen or sixteen, who had been hugging his head and shivering curled up in a corner, seeing the old soldier's actions, also gritted his teeth, got up, and staggered over to help move stones.

About half the time it takes to drink a cup of tea later.

The sounds of battle cries from the east suddenly became intense.

Different from the previous one-sided slaughter, this commotion was the hard clash of metal against metal.

"Get lost!!"

A thunderous roar tore through the night sky.

Immediately after, a giant war axe with a curled blade whistled through the air, drawing a mournful arc, and cleaved a Dark Gold Hunter Insect attempting to pounce cleanly in two.

Foul-smelling insect blood splattered across the ground.

A figure like an iron tower smashed through the obstructing broken walls and ruins, covered in blood, and charged into the illuminated area of the light pillar.

Zhao Tiji.

This captain of the Bing-7 camp was now unrecognizable from his original appearance.

The heavy armor on his body had long since vanished, leaving only half a Heart-Protecting Mirror hanging from his shoulder.

That black iron heavy shield he valued as his life was also gone, replaced by a deep, bone-visible claw wound on his left arm.

Behind him followed over twenty veteran soldiers.

Each of them bore wounds, their weapons either notched or bent, yet their formation stubbornly held, like a hard bone that had been chewed but couldn't be swallowed.

"Brother Su!"

Zhao Tiji spotted Su Ming standing under the light pillar at first glance.

This man who usually only shed blood, not tears, instantly felt his eyes redden. A smile uglier than crying twisted across his blood-stained face as he strode over.

"I knew it! I knew there was something strange going on with you here!"

Watching Zhao Tiji lead his men out of the darkness, Su Ming slowly exhaled a foul breath tinged with the taste of blood.

His back, which had been held ramrod straight, trembled almost imperceptibly for a moment when no one was watching.

Only he himself knew how great the toll on his vital essence, blood, and mental energy was to maintain the Beacon Fire light pillar and the confusing trail array.

Within the Consciousness Sea, Lin Yu's soul flame had also dimmed somewhat, clearly having shouldered part of the burden.

He lowered his head. A cold sense of exhaustion seeped from the depths of his marrow, but he forcibly suppressed it immediately.

Can't fall.

If he fell now, none of these people would survive.

Zhao Tiji rushed up close, wanting to clap Su Ming on the shoulder, but his hand stopped halfway and retracted—he was afraid his uncontrollable brute strength might knock Su Ming, who currently looked ready to collapse at any moment, to pieces.

"Brother Zhao."

The corner of Su Ming's mouth lifted slightly. That faint hint of a smile finally let Zhao Tiji's hanging heart settle back into place.

"Just being alive is good."

"That was way too damn close!"