The Great Artisan God gestured for Muxuan to follow, then turned and walked deeper into the Molten Heart Cluster.
It wasn’t heading toward the lava lake, but toward an entrance to a tunnel at the rear of the furnace cluster, partially hidden behind massive gears and thick pipes.
Muxuan’s body was still weak.
She had overexerted her Lightforce, and now every step felt like walking on cotton.
Qiansitelin firmly supported Muxuan, then retracted Lyrasel.
Theodore, carrying a mix of excitement and a hint of confusion, followed behind the Great Artisan God.
The walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel were built from massive stones with a dark, metallic sheen, engraved with intricate and ancient runes that exuded a heavy, profound aura.
The passage was exceptionally dry, sealing off the foul odors from outside, leaving only the cold, metallic, and rocky chill.
The further in they went, the wider the tunnel became.
Large metal components of unknown purpose began to appear on either side, some looking like the wreckage of giant machinery.
The sound of their footsteps echoed clearly through the tunnel.
“This is the outer tunnel of the ‘War Rampart,'” the Great Artisan God’s voice broke the silence.
He paused mid-step, glanced back at the weakened Saintess, and then lightly traced his fingers over the runes on the wall.
The runes emitted a faint red glow, and a wave of scorching heat filled the tunnel.
“Mmph… Ah…”
Hearing the pained sounds from her little Highness, Qiansitelin frowned and was about to act, but then relaxed.
She felt that power too.
Like boiling lava, it seeped into her body at an incredibly slow pace, carrying a touch of gentleness.
It was uncomfortable, but Qiansitelin could sense that this power enhanced physical constitution and healed wounds.
“Mmph… Ahh…”
Muxuan’s stifled groan carried an indescribable tremble.
Her body stiffened abruptly, nearly going limp in Qiansitelin’s arms.
A hot flush quickly spread across her pale face, turning it a vivid crimson in an instant, like a ripe berry, even spreading to her slender neck and delicate earlobes.
She felt the Lightforce, already depleted within her, being violently stirred by this external force.
An indescribable heat surged from deep within her core, rapidly flowing throughout her entire body.
Her skin became extraordinarily sensitive; the friction of fabric brought sharp, numbing tingles and prickles with every movement.
Her breathing grew rapid and ragged.
The slight curve of her robes rose and fell heavily with the heaving of her chest.
Fine beads of sweat, which had receded after her initial recovery of strength, reappeared on her brow, sliding down her burning cheeks.
Her golden eyes, once brilliant, were now veiled by a layer of hazy mist.
Her pupils were slightly dilated, her gaze losing its usual clarity, replaced by a dazed, bewildered confusion.
She instinctively bit her lower lip, trying to suppress the moan that was about to escape.
Just as Muxuan was about to fall, Qiansitelin’s hands swiftly wrapped around her slender waist and gently lifted her up.
Looking at Muxuan’s pain-filled face in her arms, Qiansitelin felt her heart clench tightly.
That delicate little face was flushed bright red, sweat dripped down like beads from a broken string, and her body was taut and squirming in Qiansitelin’s embrace.
“Your Highness… bear with it.”
Qiansitelin’s voice was extremely low.
She carefully adjusted her hold, allowing Muxuan to lean more comfortably against her chest, while minimizing the friction of the fabric against her mistress’s now-excruciatingly sensitive skin.
Although she wanted to ask the Great Artisan God to stop, to ease her mistress’s suffering, she also understood that Her Highness’s current condition was terrible, and that the Great Artisan God’s actions were indeed accelerating her recovery.
Seeing the fine beads of sweat continuously seeping from Muxuan’s smooth forehead and sliding down her hot cheeks, Qiansitelin didn’t hesitate.
She quickly pulled out the silk handkerchief she always carried and carefully wiped the sweat from her forehead and cheeks.
The cool touch of the silk brought a faint shred of comfort, calming Muxuan’s rapid breathing slightly, but she kept her eyes tightly shut, her long eyelashes trembling violently in pain.
The Great Artisan God turned to look, pondered for a moment, but ultimately said nothing, continuing to walk forward with a steady pace.
Theodore was also walking, but the power had clearly affected her as well.
She felt her head buzzing so loudly that she could barely tell which way was up.
If the Great Artisan God hadn’t reached out to steady her occasionally, she probably would have run into the wall several times.
Thud!
With a dull sound, Theodore finally failed to dodge a protruding thick pipe and smacked her forehead right into it.
“Wahhh—!”
She yelped in pain, her hands flying to her forehead where a small bump was already forming, and crouched down with tears in her eyes.
This bump, however, brought a glimmer of clarity back to her chaos-addled mind.
The Great Artisan God finally stopped.
He turned around, looked at Theodore, who was temporarily “clear-headed” from the bump, and then at the Saintess breathing heavily in Qiansitelin’s arms.
A complex expression flickered across his rugged face.
With a resigned sigh, the Great Artisan God raised his hand and traced the wall again.
The red glow of the runes slowly dimmed, and the power, like molten lava, finally receded.
The moment it vanished, the entire tunnel turned cold.
The scorching heat from a second ago was replaced by a biting chill that made Theodore shiver and fully snap back to her senses.
Feeling the temperature change, Qiansitelin’s palm instantly surged with a silver light.
It gently enveloped her mistress’s body.
In her arms, Muxuan’s rapid breathing gradually calmed.
The unnatural flush on her face began to fade, and the sweating subsided significantly.
The silver light was steady and gentle, like a thin, warm veil covering Muxuan, warding off the cold and smoothing over the last traces of agitation from the power’s impact.
Muxuan opened her eyes.
Her golden irises were still tired, but the dazed pain had dissipated, replaced by her usual clarity, though a trace of weakness remained deep within.
“Your Highness, how do you feel?”
Qiansitelin’s voice was extremely low, filled with undisguised concern.
“Much better…”
Muxuan’s voice was a bit hoarse, but it was stronger than before.
“Can… can you put me down?”
Being held like this again, especially in front of others, stirred a nameless shyness within her.
“Of course, Your Highness~”
Seeing that her little mistress’s condition was indeed much better, Qiansitelin carefully set Muxuan down, steadying her so she could stand.
But the moment Muxuan tried to take a step, a numbing sensation, like an electric shock, shot through her entire body, and she almost collapsed, putting all her weight back onto Qiansitelin.
Looking at Qiansitelin’s smiling face, Muxuan instinctively turned her head away.
The next moment, Qiansitelin’s voice came softly:
“It seems Your Highness isn’t ready to leave my arms just yet.”