Chapter 1112: Full Moon

The darkness was as thick as ink, and consciousness sank in a bottomless abyss. Only the searing pain, like billions of spiked chains, spread from limbs and bones to the depths of the spirit, was the sole clear perception. The tiny primordial spirit was riddled with cracks; each faint pulse brought a tearing pain. Within the sea of awareness, star‑core fragments and star‑heart fragments flickered like dying candles in the wind, their light dim, barely sustaining the last spark of star fire. The bronze fragment that had just merged now lay unusually still, like a cold, stubborn stone.

After an unknown amount of time, a faint sting came from the middle of the brow, carrying the bitterness of plants and a certain warm liquid sensation. Immediately after, a terribly coarse chant with a primal rhythm, like the heartbeat of the earth, pierced the heavy dark barrier and reached his ears in broken fragments.

"Umm…" a suppressed groan of pain slipped from Han Wuxian's cracked lips. His heavy eyelids, as if filled with lead, struggled to lift a sliver of a gap.

Dim light poured in. He lay in a low hut built of logs and huge leaves. Beneath him was soft, fragrant dry grass. The air was thick with a strong medicinal odor and a faint scent of blood. His blurred vision focused first on the wrinkled face of an old woman painted with dark‑green mud. She muttered incantations, her withered fingers dipping in a viscous, plant‑scented dark‑green medicinal mud, carefully applying it to the wound at his brow. Each application brought a wave of coolness, temporarily suppressing the bone‑gnawing pain.

It was the old priestess. Han Wuxian vaguely recognized her as an ancient presence in the tribe, second in rank only to Chief Yan Shan.

"Star… Child… has awakened…" the old priestess's clouded eyes burst with an indescribable joy, her voice trembling and hoarse. She ceased chanting and uttered a rapid, strange string of syllables toward the doorway.

Soon, heavy footsteps arrived, accompanied by suppressed gasps and a strong scent of blood. Han Wuxian strained to move his eyes, and his pupils snapped shut!

Chief Yan Shan's towering figure appeared at the doorway, half of his body wrapped in blood‑stained beast‑skin bandages; the exposed arms and chest were covered with fierce burns and corrosive scars, and a dark‑purple foul aura writhed around the wound edges like a living thing! His complexion was ashen, his lips black‑blue, each breath accompanied by a heavy rasp, his eyes filled with fatigue and bone‑deep pain. Yet he kept his spine straight, clutching a broken stone spear, its tip slick with black‑purple viscous foul blood.

What terrified Han Wuxian even more were Yan Shan's eyes. The pupils, once as sharp as an eagle's, now faintly glowed with a heart‑pounding dark‑purple hue that shared the same source as the Stone Hall's contamination! The nine‑abyssal filth not only corroded his body but was slowly polluting his will!

"Stone Hall… Sacred Core…" Yan Shan's voice was hoarse like sandpaper grinding, each word laden with heavy breaths and uncontainable pain, "Filth… agitation… suppression… requires… the Star Child's power!" His blood‑veined eyes fixed on Han Wuxian, filled with the last sliver of prayer amid despair.

Han Wuxian tried to circulate the True Explanation of the Celestial Stars, but the response was excruciating pain in his meridians like a dried riverbed and a hollow weakness. The sea of awareness was depleted, the primordial spirit severely damaged, the three great treasure cores lay dead as stone. Now he was barely better than a slightly stronger mortal.

"I… need time…" Han Wuxian's voice was equally hoarse and weak, each word pulling at the pain throughout his body.

"There's no… time left!" Yan Shan coughed violently, spitting out foul blood speckled with black‑purple glints. He pointed toward the Stone Hall, fear filling his eyes, "The filth… is spreading! The Sacred Core… is wailing! The tribe… the surrounding forest… are all… withering!" He ripped the bandages from his chest, exposing the horrific wound being corroded and ever‑spreading by the filth, "I… can't hold on… much longer! The next… full moon… it… will fully… erupt!"

Full moon? Han Wuxian's heart sank. How long had he been unconscious? He lifted his head, peering through a gap in the hut toward the sky, a mournful white crescent hanging obliquely on the horizon.

Less than ten days remained until the full moon!

The death countdown had already begun. The contamination inside the Stone Hall was like a volcano about to erupt, and the guardian Yan Shan was being burned and transformed from the inside out by this poisonous fire!

"Take me to… the Stone Hall." Han Wuxian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to sit up, but his body refused, as if its joints had fallen apart, and another mouthful of reverse blood tinged with star‑flare surged up his throat.

"Star Child! No!" the old priestess pressed him in terror.

"Only… by approaching the Sacred Core… can my power… have any chance of recovery." Han Wuxian gasped, a defiant star‑fire burning in his eyes. He needed the remaining star power within the Stone Hall, and more importantly, he had to face the source of the contamination head‑on!

Yan Shan stared at Han Wuxian for a moment, a flash of resolve crossing his blood‑veined, purple‑tinged eyes. He let out a low roar, ignoring the old priestess's protest, and with his relatively intact arm he hoisted Han Wuxian onto his shoulder as if bearing prey! The broken spear was clenched tightly in his other hand.

"Move!" Yan Shan's voice rang with a reckless, all‑or‑nothing fury as he carried Han Wuxian, sprinting toward the tribe's central Stone Hall! Each stride made the ground tremble, his wound tearing open, black‑purple foul blood seeping continuously from the bandages.

The Stone Hall still rose on the high slope, but the atmosphere had become entirely different. Once shrouded in a sacred star‑lit aura, it now resembled a massive, ominous pus‑filled sack. Dark‑purple foul auras seeped faintly from cracks in the stone walls, and the air reeked of sulfur and rot. The two star‑vault beast stone statues that gazed upward now bore fine black fissures, and faint purple light seemed to flicker in their hollow eye sockets.

The hall's doors stood ajar, the beast‑skin curtain already turned to ash. A cold, viscous suction emanated from deep within, as if it would Devour any life that drew near.

Yan Shan stopped before the hall's doors and gently set Han Wuxian down, letting him lean against the icy stone wall. He inhaled deeply, the air he drew in seeming to carry corrosive agony; his facial grimace deepened, and the purple hue in his pupils deepened further.

"Hold the… entrance!" Yan Shan roared to the few strongest tribal warriors trailing behind. Fear etched their faces, yet they still gripped bone spears and stone axes, like warriors marching to death, steadfastly guarding the hall's two sides.

Yan Shan gave Han Wuxian one last look, his gaze impossibly complex—part prayer, part resolve, and a hint of madness corrupted by the filth. He spun sharply, letting out a low roar, trudging with heavy steps deeper into the Stone Hall that radiated ominous purple light! He would use his remaining life and will to confront the source of the contamination, buying Han Wuxian the final moments!