Chapter 100: The Flicker of the Sanctuary, the Elf

Darkness clung like thick ink, enveloping the narrow pipe. Tong Xu dragged the wrench, each step sinking deep into the icy mud, his ragged breaths echoing like a broken bellows in the silence. Every breath tore through his shattered wounds; the agony in his left eye socket and the dizziness from blood loss surged against his fading consciousness like tidal waves. The mechanical prosthetic hand, after its earlier burst, had fallen utterly silent—a heavy, cold lump of scrap metal.

Behind him, the hissing of insects never ceased. Though held at bay by the emerald glow radiating from the withered branch in Lingna’s arms, the purple-black worms remained patient hunters, lingering far in the dark, their countless crimson mouthparts glinting like greedy sparks, waiting for the light to fade.

Lin Mo, wrapped in emerald light and star-dust shimmer, lay sprawled in the mud, dragged forward by Tong Xu using a strip of cloth torn hastily from his own clothing. His charred body no longer convulsed, but the dark purple mark of the rotting claw on his right arm pulsed ominously—each pulse causing the emerald glow above it to ripple faintly. The branch’s light flickered like a candle in the wind: steady, yet weak. No one knew how long it could last.

Lingna remained unconscious, her small body cradled in Tong Xu’s last reserves of strength, pressed against Lin Mo. The jade-heart fragment on her chest held no glow, but the tender branch in her arms had become the sole source of hope.

The wrench was senseless, its twisted arm swaying limply with each tug.

This was a desperate procession of the grievously wounded, the unconscious, and a single flickering lamp of life, crawling painfully along the edge of hell.

The pipe seemed endless, winding and twisting, sloping upward at times, plunging steeply downward. The air grew damper and colder, thick with the heavy stench of rust and an indescribable, ancient decay. The moss coating the walls had changed too—not the slick, dark green of before, but a dull gray speckled with eerie purple blotches, emitting faint radiation.

After crawling for who knew how long, just as Tong Xu’s strength finally drained and his consciousness teetered on the brink of darkness—

Hum!

Deep ahead in the darkness, a faint yet unnervingly steady pale gold light—like a star at the end of oblivion—suddenly pierced Tong Xu’s blurred, single eye!

Light!

Not the milky white of star-dust, not the emerald of the branch, not the corrupted purple-black!

But a... gentle, ancient, subtly rhythmic pale gold glow—alive with an indescribable pulse!

The light struck like an adrenaline shot, reigniting a spark in Tong Xu’s dying consciousness. He summoned the last of his strength, dragging his heavy burden, crawling desperately toward that point of light with hands and feet!

The distance shrank.

It was not a single point—it was a small patch! It came from a relatively open space formed by a collapse at the pipe’s end. The source appeared to be a massive circular emblem carved into a relatively intact metal wall at the far end of the space—a complex design woven from countless intricate vines and arcane runes.

The emblem’s core was a lush, leafy tree, its trunk entwined with thorns, its canopy radiating a soft pale gold glow. The entire design flowed with ancient, fluid lines, bearing an elegance and mystery alien to the wasteland. Though the metal wall itself was rusted and pitted, the emblem seemed protected by some unseen force—still clear, emitting a faint but unwavering light that bathed the small space in a gentle golden halo.

Where the light reached, the gray moss speckled with purple blotches vanished. The air grew noticeably fresher; the thick stench of decay was greatly dispelled.

“This is...” Tong Xu dragged his companions into the golden-lit space, collapsing onto the relatively clean metal floor, gasping for breath. His single eye locked onto the emblem on the wall. The thorn-entwined great tree felt strangely familiar—had he seen it before? On some broken mural of the old world? Or in ancient dwarf legends?

He had no time to ponder. More astonishingly, when the emerald glow from the withered branch in Lingna’s arms touched the pale gold light, it surged like a child returning home—brightening, stabilizing, even resonating faintly with the thorned tree emblem on the wall, emitting joyful life waves!

The swarm of insects trailing behind, upon reaching the edge of the pale gold light, shrieked in terror as if encountering an absolute predator, retreating en masse into the dark depths of the pipe, never daring to approach again.

Safe. For now.

Tong Xu’s taut nerves finally loosened a fraction. Exhaustion and pain crashed over him like a tsunami. Leaning against the cold metal wall, he watched the warm glow envelope his unconscious companions: Lingna’s branch now pulsed with steady vitality; Lin Mo’s rotting claw mark, under the dual pressure of emerald and pale gold light, pulsed weakly; the star-dust crystal on his chest had calmed. The wrench remained unconscious, but his twisted arm now looked less monstrous beneath the light.

Hope, like the faint glow of the thorned tree on the wall, quietly ignited in the despairing depths beneath the earth.

Tong Xu’s consciousness blurred. He was too tired, his wounds too grave. As he slipped into unconsciousness, his dimmed eye seemed to catch Lingna’s small hand, moving unconsciously, brushing the base of the thorned tree emblem on the wall. The emblem flickered faintly—a whisper of intent, delicate and tender, like a breeze brushing through the small sanctuary.

Meanwhile.

Far from the wasteland’s surface, deep within the withered forest, hidden by folded space, a cold observation station.

The Doctor stood before a vast circular screen. On it, the signal representing the Thornsheart Ruins had long vanished. But now, on a side panel, a faint, intermittent signal was refreshing.

Signal source: Deep beneath the wasteland (coordinates: ██████).

Signal characteristics:

【Energy Spectrum 1: Weak... Stable... Order artifact (Star-Dust)... Persistent...】

【Energy Spectrum 2: Extremely weak... Active... High-purity Life Source (World Tree)... Carrier state: Withered... But source unextinguished... Continuously leaking...】

【Energy Spectrum 3: Strong... Suppressed... High-concentration Corruption Contamination (Primordial Rot)... Carrier state: Near death... Suppression source: Star-Dust + Unknown Life Energy (same origin as Spectrum 2)...】

【Unknown Order Field detected... Characteristics: Ancient... Natural... Thorns... Match rate with “Spirit Sanctuary” guardian rune from “Key” Project (Ark Seven File): 87.3%...】

【Additional signal: Individual (Eli)... State: High-activity corruption source... Location: Ruins surface... Movement trajectory: Chaotic... Advancing toward the deep withered forest...】

On the Doctor’s cold lenses, the complex, interwoven signal streams reflected—especially the unknown order field labeled “Spirit Sanctuary Guardian Rune,” and the conclusion: “World Tree Source Unextinguished.”

His fingertip, hovering above the control panel, slowly withdrew from the buttons marked with destruction commands.

“Spirit ruins... World Tree’s embers... Star-Dust suppression...” A cold electronic voice echoed in the silent station, tinged with a near-pleased, inhuman calculation. “Variable... Interesting variable... Priority for Phase Two observation... Elevated.”

His gaze shifted from the signal source beneath the wasteland to the main screen—where Eli’s figure, draped in ashen keratin and radiating thick purple-black miasma, stumbled like a corpse through the mist of the withered forest. Deep in the direction she moved, a region veiled in denser, strangely purple mist faintly outlined the silhouette of a massive, ruined tree-shaped structure.

“Go... Corrupted ‘Moonblade’...” The Doctor’s gaze behind his lenses was as deep as an abyss. “Rip open the veil of the ‘Withered Court’ for me...”

The observation station’s lights extinguished, leaving only the screen’s glow to illuminate the Doctor’s figure—ancient as a glacial ice. A new script, stained in blood, quietly turned in the ashes of the wasteland and the forest’s mist. Deep below, the faint glow of the thorned tree emblem watched, like a slumbering eye, over the tiny, stubborn spark it sheltered.