The heavy footsteps of the Great Artisan God and the light footsteps of Mu Xuan Bai echoed in the empty metal corridor.
The two starkly different rhythms overlapped, and their figures soon disappeared into the depths of a branching path leading into the tribe’s inner area.
The atmosphere among the three who remained grew momentarily stagnant.
Theodore pouted, her eyes still red-rimmed, looking somewhat aggrieved in the direction where the Great Artisan God and Pope Uncle had vanished.
Her hands, clad in red leather gloves, unconsciously fidgeted with her coppery braid as the toe of her boot kicked the cold metal floor rhythmically, producing a series of light tap tap sounds.
Qiansitelin’s gaze, however, was locked onto Muxuan.
Only after confirming that the figures of the Great Artisan God and Mu Xuan Bai were completely out of sight did she turn around, once again gripping Muxuan’s slender shoulders with both hands.
Her eyes swept up and down as if to verify her condition anew.
“Relax, Qiansitelin.”
Muxuan felt the coolness transmitted from her palms and spoke somewhat helplessly.
“You’re acting like a newborn baby who’s not even a month old… It’s not like I can’t take care of myself. It’s your reaction that makes me feel like I’m about to get into trouble any second now.”
She slightly extended her small hand, clasped Qiansitelin’s, and gently comforted her.
“Just take care of Theodore for me. I need to check on the internal situation of the Watkan Tribe right now.”
Muxuan’s voice reached Qiansitelin clearly.
Qiansitelin nodded, then moved a bit away.
It was indeed not the right time to keep hindering Her Little Highness.
Feeling the warmth from Qiansitelin recede slightly, Muxuan refocused her mind, pouring her main concentration into Mu Xuan Bai.
Deep within the corridor, the air grew increasingly foul, mixing a heavy smell of rust, the sulfurous residue of furnace embers, and an indescribable faint stench like rancid grease.
The Great Artisan God slowed his pace, as if pondering something, while continuously sensing his surroundings.
He couldn’t guarantee that no accidents would occur during his absence.
The goblins’ premeditated attack this time had caught even him off guard in some aspects.
Mu Xuan Bai silently followed half a step behind and to his side.
His body, composed of pure holy light, served as a moving light source in the dim corridor, the soft radiance reflecting off the cold, rugged metal walls, delineating contours of light and shadow.
The runes flowing on his robe rotated slowly like living things, emitting a stable force field that silently drove away the approaching polluted air.
And beneath those closed eyelids, there was no ordinary vision.
But through him, Muxuan’s consciousness scanned the surroundings from a higher-dimensional “perception”: the traces of energy flow, the subtle differences in biological composition, the fluctuations emitted by life forms… and even the corrupt particles in the air that smelled of decay and rancidity were clearly discernible to the perception of the Holy Relic.
Suddenly, the Great Artisan God stopped in front of a heavy iron door leading to the main passage of the living area.
The door was half-open, its hinges rusted, leaving only a gap wide enough for one person to slide through sideways.
Behind the door, the rancid grease-like stench intensified several times, thick almost to the point of being unbreathable, nauseating.
“Something’s wrong!”
The Great Artisan God’s deep voice carried suppressed anger and cold vigilance.
He was too familiar with this place.
Behind this door should be the hub corridor connecting the tribal communal cafeteria and multiple residential units, which would normally be bustling at this hour.
But now—silence.
An unsettling silence.
Mu Xuan Bai tilted his head slightly, facing the gap.
He “saw” the distorted contours of the scene beyond the door.
The energy field was chaotic, filled with thick, disordered fluctuations like a stirred-up mud puddle.
Among them were faint but pained and frenzied signals, along with lurking, cold sources of corruption.
Just as the Great Artisan God drew a deep breath and his calloused hand was about to push open the half-hidden heavy iron door—
A shrill screech suddenly erupted.
The Great Artisan God’s pupils contracted, the muscles on his face tensed instantly.
He reacted almost instinctively, sidestepping while simultaneously drawing the rune-engraved forging hammer from his waist.
And the moment he dodged—
Thwip!
A twisted, deformed arm covered in thick, slimy dark green pus shot out from the door gap.
The arm was abnormally thick, its skin like leather forcibly stretched and corroded, carrying a strong stench of decay.
It lashed out viciously at the spot where the Great Artisan God had just stood.
The claw-like wind scraped past his arm guard, producing a grating sound that set teeth on edge.
Then the arm exerted force again, the rusted hinges groaning in protest as the heavy iron door was forced open.
A massive, distorted figure squeezed out.
It still vaguely retained a humanoid shape, but its size had nearly doubled.
Its skin was a sickening gray-green, ulcerated in many places, with pus oozing out constantly.
From the rotting features, the Great Artisan God barely recognized his identity, and his heart sank heavily.
Without any hesitation, the forging hammer smashed down instantly.
A crimson aura emanated from the Great Artisan God’s arm.
This strike was as heavy as a thousand jun, nearly compressing the air in the corridor.
The moment the hammer touched it, the rotting body shattered inch by inch, gray-green liquid splattering everywhere, but it was all blocked by the aura emanating from within him.
However, looking at the still-twitching, death-resistant remnants on the ground, the Great Artisan God’s expression grew even grimmer.
No matter how great the power, it could not completely eradicate these corrupted beings.
A low, sanctified hum resonated, like the echo of ancient bells.
Mu Xuan Bai moved.
He made no complex gestures—simply raised his palm made of holy light and spread his five fingers.
Soft yet majestic holy light burst forth.
The light was not blinding, but it carried unparalleled authority and purifying power.
It branched like flowing water, precisely enveloping the still-wriggling remnants.
Sizzle sounds continuously emerged.
The corruption bodies wrapped in light visibly lost their activity.
In mere moments, the corridor regained its peace.
The tension in the Great Artisan God’s expression relaxed slightly.
For them, eradicating this corruption could never be done so effortlessly.
In the past, they could only gather it and toss it into the “Molten Core” for incineration—but now, the Molten Core could no longer function normally.
The Great Artisan God slowly raised his head, looking at Mu Xuan Bai.
His voice was low and solemn:
“Thank you, Your Holiness.”