Xue Mao's fur bristled with immense energy as it anxiously pressed its glowing paws to Xiao Ming's chest, channeling what little yin qi it could spare into the unconscious cultivator.
Each pulse of energy was a battle against time itself, the delicate balance of yin and yang threatened by the chaotic energy surging within the maze.
The air around them crackled with tension, the oppressive weight of the maze's energy pressing down like a suffocating blanket.
Though the maze's formation had been broken apart, the looming danger of the surroundings had yet to fade. The whole place was eerie, bearing a feeling of gloom that seeped into the bones of those who dared to tread its paths.
The translucent walls shimmered faintly, their surfaces rippling like disturbed water, and the faint hum of energy in the air was a constant reminder of the maze's latent hostility.