Chapter 40: The Last Seal

The chamber fell into an oppressive silence as the guardian crumbled into a cloud of dust, the last echoes of its tortured roar dissipating into the cold air. Yang Xiang's breath came in ragged gasps, sweat trickling down his temple despite the chilling cold that pervaded the underground vault. Before him, the stone altar—once the heart of an ancient, malevolent ritual—now stood stripped of its protector, revealing a hidden compartment carved into its base.

Slowly, Yang approached, each step heavy with dread and anticipation. With trembling fingers, he traced the edges of the compartment, feeling the cold, smooth surface of an obsidian orb nested within. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat deep beneath the earth, radiating an aura both alluring and terrifying. The orb's dark surface shimmered under the flickering bone lantern light, as if containing the shadows of a thousand forgotten souls.

Lu Anqi stepped forward, her expression unreadable, the cold precision she always carried unshaken even now. She reached out with gloved hands and lifted the orb carefully, her eyes never leaving its ominous glow. "This is the final seal," she said quietly. "The core of the Womb's power itself—the source that has been imprisoned beneath the earth for millennia."

Yang's gaze locked with hers, searching for any hint of emotion, any glimpse of doubt or fear. But Anqi's face remained an unreadable mask. "What happens if it breaks?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Anqi's eyes darkened. "The world as we know it could unravel. The Womb is not merely a relic; it is a force—alive, sentient, and hungry. It binds the earth's secrets, the dead, and the forgotten. If released, the boundaries between life and death, past and present, will collapse."

A shudder ran through the chamber, as if the earth itself was trembling in response to their presence. Outside, distant rumblings echoed, growing louder by the second. The ancient seal was reacting.

Yang clenched the copper talisman against his chest, the weight of his bloodline pressing heavily on his soul. The memories surged—faces from long ago, whispered names, rites performed in shadowed tombs. He was a vessel, a key, and now the final decision rested in their hands.

Anqi's voice broke the silence, soft yet firm. "We have two choices: destroy the seal and risk awakening a power beyond control—or attempt to contain it once more, at a cost we may never fully understand."

Yang swallowed hard. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with the past's unrelenting grip. Somewhere deep within, a voice whispered—a warning or a promise he could not yet decipher.

Outside, the earth groaned louder still, cracks spiderwebbing across the distant stone walls.

"We don't have much time," Anqi said, her voice steady. "Whatever we choose, the past is no longer buried. The Womb stirs."

Yang looked at the orb again, its dark surface swirling like a storm contained within glass.

The future hinged on this moment—on whether to break the final seal or to let the shadows sleep, ever hungry beneath their feet.