Reemergence into the Light

Before long, after casting a dozen Rain Dew Spells, Yang Fan had mostly healed Hu Fei's external wounds. During this process, Yang Fan's mastery of the Xianhong Technique was growing at a noticeable rate, filling him with joy. If this pace continued, it wouldn't be long before the Xianhong Technique advanced to the Spirit Convergence stage, finally standing on equal footing with his demonic arts.

As he treated Hu Fei, Yang Fan also noticed something peculiar: Hu Fei's body was far more resilient than that of cultivators at his level—**his physical strength even surpassed that of zombies of the same rank.** "This guy is truly a freak," Yang Fan mused, alarmed by the thought. "If I were to engage him in close combat, I would definitely be at a disadvantage."

Yang Fan turned his attention to healing Hu Fei's internal injuries. 

For internal wounds, however, Yang Fan had not yet learned any specialized spells, so he could only rely on the essence of his Xianhong Technique to enter Hu Fei's body, soothing and repairing the damage. Although this was usually sufficient for normal injuries, Hu Fei's internal damage was anything but ordinary. The power that had inflicted such harm was at least of the Foundation Establishment level, and two particularly severe injuries seemed beyond Yang Fan's ability to fully heal.

Gentle, verdant light flickered and pulsed in Yang Fan's hands, radiating life-force like a mist that seeped into Hu Fei's body, slowly mending his wounds. As Yang Fan's spiritual energy made deeper contact with Hu Fei's body, his expression grew more serious. Once again, he sensed the forbidden power lurking within Hu Fei's core, a force so dangerous it made his heart race, something he dared not touch or provoke.

It became clear that if Hu Fei were ever to be enraged and enter a berserk state, his combat prowess would be terrifying beyond measure. After all, he had held his own under the fierce assault of a Foundation Establishment zombie and hadn't yet succumbed to defeat.

After what felt like the time it took to finish a bowl of tea, Yang Fan withdrew his hand and exhaled a long breath.

"Am... am I healed?" Hu Fei asked excitedly, attempting to stand up and stretch his muscles, though a slight frown crossed his brow.

Yang Fan replied calmly, "Two of your internal wounds are too severe, inflicted by power nearly equivalent to an attack from a higher-ranked cultivator. As a mere low-level healer, there's nothing I can do about them for now. But all your other wounds, internal and external, are healed."

"That's... that's great! Now we... we can go deal with that zombie!" Hu Fei said, already making for the door in his eagerness to leave.

"Calm down," Yang Fan said, standing still with an indifferent expression.

"What... what do you mean?" Hu Fei asked, suddenly displeased.

"Do you think the two of us alone can fight a Foundation Establishment-level zombie? Even if we could somehow kill it, we'd pay a terrible price." Yang Fan's voice remained unhurried.

Indeed, two Spirit Convergence cultivators stood little chance against such a foe. If they were both at the peak of Spirit Convergence, there might be a slim chance. But even though both Yang Fan and Hu Fei were exceptional, the cost of victory would likely be grave—if they survived at all.

Yang Fan wasn't about to risk his life or limb for a mere zombie, especially with no idea what dangers awaited him outside the ancient tomb. He needed to preserve his strength.

"So... so what do you suggest we do?" Hu Fei asked, calming down a little.

Yang Fan pondered for a moment before replying, "Why don't we wait here for a couple of days? It's possible that outsiders will clear the entrance for us without us having to lift a finger."

"But... what if they don't dare to enter?" Hu Fei countered, unconvinced.

Yang Fan smiled serenely. "Then we wait a few more days. It doesn't hurt us to rest and recover. I also have Fasting Pills on hand—no matter how long we stay, we'll be fine."

"Hmph... if you want to wait, you wait alone!" Hu Fei snapped impatiently. Yet despite his bravado, his gaze kept drifting toward the headless corpse deep in the temple, betraying his anxiety.

In a flash, Hu Fei sped out of the hall, unleashing a powerful surge of energy as he charged into the outer layers of the tomb.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Without using his spiritual senses, Yang Fan could hear a series of rapid, crashing sounds. And then, a moment later, a loud "thud," followed by Hu Fei's anguished cry.

"Poor fool..." Yang Fan thought, shaking his head in sympathy.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Hu Fei came flying back into the inner temple, his body slammed through the air by a single strike from the Foundation Establishment zombie outside. He lay sprawled on the ground, humiliated and seething with rage, baring his teeth in frustration.

As Hu Fei's eyes landed on Yang Fan, he found him sitting cross-legged, utterly calm. Startled by this, Hu Fei asked, "You... you're not afraid?"

He glanced warily toward the headless demon corpse at the far end of the hall, still shaken.

"Afraid? No." Yang Fan responded with a casual glance, his tone cold and dismissive.

"You... you're really not scared?" Hu Fei's gaze softened with newfound admiration. Yet, as he scratched the back of his head in confusion, he couldn't help but wonder: Why was Yang Fan afraid of the Foundation Establishment zombie outside but not the terrifying headless demon corpse within?

"By the way," Yang Fan suddenly asked, "do you have any way to send a message to Rain Mist Manor? Let them know you're still alive."

"This... I don't know if it will work," Hu Fei said, quickly pulling out a jade talisman from his storage pouch and pouring spiritual energy into it. He closed his eyes, concentrating.

"I... I can sense something... though it's faint." Hu Fei smiled.

"Good. Now, we simply wait and recover." Yang Fan closed his eyes, his focus shifting inward as he began his meditation.

In truth, half of Yang Fan's mind was occupied with his Xianhong Space, where the green soil was assisting him in rapidly healing his injuries. 

An idea suddenly flashed in Yang Fan's mind. His Xianhong Space granted him the power to summon others into it—a privilege unique to his cultivation.

"If the green soil can heal so efficiently, then even someone on the verge of death—half a step into the afterlife—could be brought back from the brink, saved from certain death," Yang Fan mused. But this power came with conditions: the summoned individual could not resist in any way.

Yet, he quickly shook off the thought. "Unless it's for someone truly dear to me, I can't recklessly use this ability just to save someone."

The two of them spent two days and nights in the inner tomb. Yang Fan remained untroubled, his internal wounds healing significantly, thanks mostly to the restorative properties of the green soil in Xianhong Space. Without it, it would have taken at least ten days to recover.

Hu Fei, on the other hand, grew more restless by the hour, his gaze often flickering toward the headless demon corpse in the dark.

"It's been... two days now. Why hasn't anyone come?" Hu Fei muttered anxiously, standing by the hall's entrance and peering into the distance.

Yang Fan suddenly opened his eyes. "It's almost time. Although Rain Mist Manor fears this tomb, they'll send low-level cultivators, maybe even mortals, to clear the way."

Unleashing his spiritual senses to their full extent, Yang Fan detected the disturbance outside: the zombie and ghostly entities were becoming agitated. Even the Foundation Establishment zombie had moved beyond his range, likely drawn toward the commotion.

Half a day later, faint noises began to filter into the tomb—ghosts shrieking, zombies howling, the clash of spells and magical weapons.

"The time has come." Yang Fan stood up and strode toward the exit.

"How... how do you know?" Hu Fei asked, incredulous. His own spiritual senses were unusually sharp for his level, and though he too could sense something, he couldn't be certain.

"Wait! Wait for me!" Hu Fei called, following Yang Fan out of the hall.

But just as Yang Fan reached the door, he paused, his gaze lingering on the headless demon corpse. A pensive look crossed his face.

"Underneath that corpse lies a source of demonic energy..." Yang Fan committed this fact to memory. His Nine Nether Demonic Arts included a powerful ability—Netherworld Demon Flame. Though it was difficult to cultivate, places rich in demonic energy could aid its progress. Once he could manifest a single ember of this flame, he would be unmatched in the first three stages of cultivation. And if he could conjure three embers, he'd be a fearsome existence even among high-level cultivators.

"Let's go!" Hu Fei urged.

"Alright. Follow me," Yang Fan replied coolly.

"And why... why should I listen to you?" Hu Fei grumbled, his pride clearly bruised.

Yang Fan merely chuckled, ignoring him, and proceeded with an air of serene confidence as if the tomb were nothing more than his own courtyard.

After a moment's hesitation, Hu Fei

 followed Yang Fan's lead.

Within minutes, the two were met by the carnage outside. Corpses, both human and undead, littered the ancient tomb's entrance—proof that the forces outside had indeed begun their assault.