Chapter 43: The Burden of Blood

The crimson glow of the obsidian orb bathed the chamber in an unholy light, painting the skeletal mosaics with flickering shadows that seemed to crawl like living things. Yang Xiang stood motionless, the copper talisman locked into the altar's ancient slot, its heat searing through his palm and rising like wildfire through his veins.

Lu Anqi's voice, steady and unwavering, continued the ritual's incantation, weaving a tapestry of words that resonated deep within the tomb's stones. Her eyes, cold as the grave, held no hint of mercy or doubt—only the unyielding weight of duty.

A pressure began to build in Yang's chest, a strange fusion of pain and power. The Womb stirred within the earth beneath them, its hunger reaching through layers of rock and memory. He felt a pull, a tether binding him to something ancient and vast—a consciousness older than any living thing.

The whispers around him grew louder, not just echoes but voices demanding recognition. Faces flashed through his mind—ancient vessels like himself, trapped between worlds, their fates sealed by blood and stone.

His knees threatened to buckle, but he stood firm, gripping the altar as a sharp surge of energy coursed through his body. The copper talisman flared, connecting him to the orb's pulsing core, intertwining their fates irrevocably.

Anqi's chant reached a crescendo, the chamber vibrating with raw power. The orb's crimson light coalesced into a swirling vortex, pulling shadows and dust into a maelstrom of ancient magic.

Suddenly, the earth groaned, the ground trembling violently as cracks spider-webbed outward from beneath the chamber. From the darkness beyond, a guttural roar echoed—a monstrous promise that the Womb was waking.

Yang's breath caught in his throat as a surge of vision flooded his mind—visions of terracotta armies marching across shadowed fields, faces contorted in silent screams, and a power so vast it threatened to consume all time and memory.

Lu Anqi's voice cut through the storm: "You are the vessel. The seal's strength depends on you now."

As the ritual's power enveloped him, Yang felt the burden of countless souls settle upon his shoulders—an unbreakable chain forged in blood, duty, and ancient sacrifice.