Chapter 1124: Lamp

The icy blue-gray light, like a supple gauze curtain, wrapped around Han Wuxian's shattered body. The bronze lamp pressed against his chest; its warm glow dispelled the bone-chilling cold of the sewage and, like an invisible barrier, isolated a thread of the surrounding murky, foul stench.

Inside him, under the blue-gray light's illumination, the Nine Nether deathly qi, like a poisonous snake thrown into boiling oil, violently recoiled and curled deep within his viscera; though not eradicated, its frenzied assault on vitality was forcibly checked.

What almost brought him to tears was that the burning of his essence-blood, which felt like it would utterly drain him, actually received a trace of extremely feeble nourishment under the light's continual shine—like cracked earth finally receiving its first drop of sweet rain; though slight, it brought hope of life.

"I'm saved… for now…" Han Wuxian thought; the nerves stretched to their limit finally relaxed a fraction. Exhaustion, like a burst dam flood, instantly engulfed him. But he knew this was absolutely no time to lose consciousness!

This strange water region, this half-submerged palace, were both filled with unknown dangers. He had to quickly find a relatively safe place to treat his wounds!

He clung to the lamp, using his remaining strength to paddle with his left arm toward the nearest half-exposed palace ruins above the water. The broken massive pillars, like the ribs of a beast, slanted into the murky water.

He climbed a wet, moss-covered broken stone step, using hands and feet to scramble onto the platform, about half a foot above the water, paved with huge stone slabs.

The platform belonged to a corner of an extremely magnificent palace. Before him stood several similarly broken massive pillars supporting the dome's ruined, on-the-verge-of-collapse remnants. Deeper, the palace's main body lay submerged beneath the dark water, revealing only vague outlines of colossal portals carved with strange patterns and collapsed walls.

The air was damp and icy, reeking of strong mold and sludge, yet slightly better than the outside water, as if the remaining structure formed a faint shelter.

Han Wuxian collapsed onto the cold, wet stone slab, gasping violently. Each breath tugged at the horrifying wound in his chest pierced by filthy tentacles, from which a viscous fluid of starlight, polluted blood, and deathly qi continually seeped. His right arm was crystallized, covered in cracks, numb, like a cold stone statue not his own.

His left arm, sore and weak from overusing the star‑torch fragment, trembled slightly. The star‑chart fragment on his back lay inert like a cold stone, only a faint warmth almost vanishing, proving its existence. Only the blue‑gray light emanating from the bronze lamp in his embrace was steady and gentle, his sole warmth and reliance now.

"I must… treat the wound…" he thought with difficulty. No medicinal pills, no spiritual power, not even a clean strip of cloth. He could rely only on this lamp.

He forced himself to sit up, carefully placing the bronze lamp beside him. The blue‑gray halo enveloped this small area, giving the damp, cold air a warm sheen. He tremblingly tore open his chest's already ruined garments, revealing the hideous wound.

The flesh around the wound showed an eerie black‑purple hue, exhaling a faint deathly qi— the residue of Nine Nether contamination. Inside, the muscle tissue was utterly ruined; even shattered bone fragments could be seen, flickering with faint starlight.

That was the trace of the star‑chart fragment's power forcibly protecting the vital spot. The filthy deathly qi, like a living thing, slowly writhed deep in the wound, trying to invade deeper, but was firmly pressed outward by the lamp's blue‑gray light.

Han Wuxian drew a deep breath, a flash of resolve in his eyes. He extended his still‑mobile left hand, fingers spread, hovering above the wound. Then, focusing all his mind, he attempted to "guide" the blue‑gray light emitted by the bronze lamp!

This was not cultivating, for he had no spiritual power to command. It was an almost instinctual plea for "light"! He recalled the light's strange traits of suppressing deathly qi and nourishing the origin, pouring his will to survive and his longing for "purification" into his intent, trying to make the light enveloping him concentrate more tightly onto the wound.

Hum…

The bronze lamp seemed to sense his intent. The bluish‑gray stone at the center of the lamp's disk glowed a fraction brighter! The blue‑gray halo enveloping Han Wuxian's body, as if drawn, slowly gathered toward his chest wound.

When the rich blue‑gray light completely enveloped the wound at that instant

"Sizzle—"

A sudden, violent sound like cold water dropped into hot oil rang out! The lingering black‑purple deathly qi at the wound, as if meeting its nemesis, churned and twisted violently, emitting a silent shriek! The blue‑gray light, like the purest flame, scorched and purified the filth! Threads of extremely thin black smoke, carrying a nauseating odor, were squeezed out of the wound strand by strand, then vanished within the blue‑gray light.

Agony! An indescribable pain instantly swept his nerves—worse than when the tentacles pierced him! This purifying power, while annihilating the deathly qi, also burned his already fragile wound tissue like a searing flame! His whole body shuddered violently, his teeth clacked, beads of cold sweat mixed with blood rolled from his forehead. He was on the verge of passing out!

But he clenched his teeth and held on! He knew this was the only path to survival! If he didn't purge the contamination, the wound would never heal, and he would eventually be devoured!

The purification process lasted an unknown time. When the last stubborn trace of black‑purple deathly qi was utterly obliterated by the blue‑gray light, Han Wuxian was nearly spent. Though the wound remained hideous, the flesh at its edges had regained normal color (albeit the pallor of excessive blood loss) and a faint remnant of star power.

Immediately after, the concentrated rich blue‑gray light did not disperse but turned into a warm, nourishing liquid like jade, gently seeping into the wound. The intense burning sensation faded, replaced by a cool, soothing feeling brimming with vitality! The flesh at the wound's edges, visible to the naked eye, began to wriggle and contract at an extremely slow pace. Though far from healed, this undoubtedly marked the life origin, having received nourishment, beginning self‑repair.

"It works! It really works!" Han Wuxian's heart leapt with joy; the relief of having survived almost brought him to tears. This bronze lamp is nothing short of a life‑saving divine object!

He dared not delay; immediately he repeated the method, guiding the blue‑gray light to treat his crystallized right‑arm wound. When the light enveloped the cracked, crystallized arm, it likewise emitted a "hiss" of purification, gradually squeezing out and annihilating the residual Nine Nether deathly qi and chaotic space power within the crystallized tissue. Though the crystallized part did not instantly restore flesh, the web‑like cracks, nourished by the blue‑gray light, showed a trace of extremely faint mending, and the deep‑bone‑aching pain lessened considerably.

Having done all this, Han Wuxian was utterly exhausted. He leaned against the cold stone pillar, clutching the bronze lamp tightly to his chest, feeling its warm light continually nourish his body riddled with wounds. Fatigue, like a tide, threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself awake, not daring to fall fully asleep. He took out a tiny star‑crystal fragment he had previously hidden in his bosom, placed it on the position of the star‑chart fragment, hoping to use the lamp's nourishing light to let the star‑chart fragment absorb a trace of weak star power and regain a bit of activity.

Time drifted slowly amid the silence, interwoven with faint starlight and blue‑gray light. The drizzle continued pattering against the shattered dome and the murky water, producing a monotonous, oppressive sound. This underwater palace ruin, like a forgotten corner of time, held only a severely wounded cultivator, a broken ancient lamp, breathing in the faint glow.

After an unknown span, Han Wuxian's dazed consciousness was startled awake by a faint anomaly.