Yang Jinyan summoned two talismans from his spatial ring. One red, one blue. Slapping the red one against the flesh-covered floor, he conjured a translucent crimson barrier that enclosed them like a cube. When the abominations slammed into it from all sides, the barrier drained his qi like a cluster of greedy camels draining a pool.

He quickly activated the blue talisman and replenished his energy. The red barrier flared brilliantly, reflecting the creatures' assault and sending them ricocheting around the ballroom like cannonballs. Elder Yang Zhaoyan had crafted these talismans to withstand multiple attacks from a newly-ascended Sun Refining cultivator, but white cracks now spiderwebbed across the barrier's surface.

One more coordinated assault would shatter their protection and seal their fate.

"P-prince."

Yang Jinyan gritted his teeth and turned around, barely holding back his frustration at their situation. The man who called to him appeared to be in his thirties, with flowing red hair, brown eyes, and delicate features that belied his true age of over a hundred years. This was Yang Junjie, a talented researcher and instructor of the clan's younger generation.

"What is it?" he asked, masking his inner turmoil with forced calm.

"If we don't do something, we'll die!"

Yang Jinyan fought the urge to slap him. Even a blind idiot could grasp the situation. Yet, he reined in his emotion, choosing silence, knowing the man would continue.

"G-give me pills that can restore my qi. I have an idea!"

As he spoke, a worm slammed into the red barrier above them. The barrier repelled the creature, sending it careening into a wall covered with nests and fleshy masses. The impact crushed several of the meatballs and sent more tumbling from their nests to roll across the ground like grotesque marbles. A crack rippled through the barrier's surface. This time, Yang Jinyan knew it wouldn't hold another attack.

Deciding to trust Yang Junjie, he summoned several pills and tossed them to Yang Junjie, who caught them in his mouth with trembling yet determined eyes and crushed them between his teeth.

Instantly, qi surged through Yang Junjie's body. Blue light emanated from his skin as if he'd become living firewood burning with pure azure flames.

"All of you need to go. I'll distract them!" Junjie shouted. "We will not die. Only I will!"

Two worms slammed the red barrier from front and back. The barrier shattered into thousands of fragments that vaporized in the air. Yang Junjie, still glowing with blue fire, launched himself forward. His hand blazing, he grabbed the first worm's nose and hurled it into its companion behind them.

"Die!" The worms collided with the wall, the impact shaking the entire room.

"Go!" Yang Junjie's body pulsed and swelled, his red robes shredding to leave only white pants clinging to his frame.

The prince's eyes widened as he realized what Yang Junjie was doing. He was burning his very cultivation. While it granted him otherwise impossible strength, the price was certain death. What shocked the prince wasn't the technique itself, but his willingness to sacrifice himself as a decoy so the others might escape.

"What are you waiting for? Go, I'll buy you time."

"Yang Junjie." A man behind him spoke the name, voice thick with sorrow.

"Your sacrifice will be remembered." The prince turned away. "Let's go."

As a worm launched itself at the group, Yang Junjie intercepted it, gripping its face with both hands and planting his feet. "Go!"

Yang Jinyan bolted toward the door where Hong'er had gone, the four remaining people close behind. As he ran, he gritted his teeth, remembering his vow in the flower hills to keep every clan member alive through this battle. Yet in less than a minute, he'd lost one man and would soon lose another. He had failed as their leader.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Still, he couldn't waver. Logically, Yang Junjie's choice was their best option: better one death than six. He understood the feeling all too well, having made the same choice for Hong'er. Junjie chose death because he trusted Yang Jinyan and understood how precious the prince's life was compared to others.

The prince inwardly cursed his own weakness. He lacked the strength to protect and lead them, and he remembered all the times he'd chosen play over cultivation, strolling around the city over sharpening his mind, and the easy path of stagnation over the difficult path of advancement.

How long had he been stuck at his current cultivation realm? Five years? Six?

A deafening rumble drew his gaze back. Yang Junjie now surrounded by more than twenty abominations and he moved like a blue ghost as he struck and dodged. He'd positioned himself between the group and the abominations, becoming a living gate they couldn't pass.

Yang Junjie's neck bulged with veins as he shouted, though the blue fire surrounding him had dimmed. When a worm launched itself like a cannonball and snapped its teeth, he survived but lost his left hand to the creature's maw.

"You worms!" A dozen blue fireballs materialized above him and streaked toward the monsters.

Before they could see the outcome, Prince Yang Jinyan and the group passed through the double doors and raced down the hallway. Around the corner, they could no longer see Yang Junjie's battle, only hear the echoes of combat.

The survivors wore grimaces of pain and guilt.

"Listen to me," the prince said, drawing their eyes. "His sacrifice won't be in vain. With this chance he's given us, we'll claim the Twelve Sun Armor. With it, we'll descend into the Emperors' Tomb and kill the traitor and his demonic ally, and we'll save Elder Yang Zhaoyan. I promise you, we will triumph."

The men nodded, determination filling their eyes. Yet Yang Jinyan knew his words rang hollow. Forget killing Yang Lihuo and Wei Yi, there was no guarantee they'd even retrieve the Twelve Sun Armor. Still, he had to believe they would succeed. Otherwise, everything they'd done, everything they'd sacrificed, would be meaningless.

Yang Jinyan clenched his fist. It wasn't futile. He would win. He would survive!

A wide white stairway connected to the upper levels before them, and they began climbing.

Halfway up, three worms burst through the walls. Each bore a woman's face, looking down at them with disdain.

"I'll hold them. Go!" one of his clan members said, and Yang Jinyan knew this pattern would repeat again and again.

***

Yang Suyin is a man of vision. As a Core Splitting cultivator with two whole cores, he felt certain he would break through to the next stage within ten years. He stood among the elite of the Yang clan and he is one of the prominent masters in the entire Twelve Sun Empire.

He had already planned his next decade. Beyond continuous cultivation, he wanted a wife and son. At one hundred and fifty years old, while not too late for marriage, it wasn't too early either.

His plans lay in disarray now that the City of Suns was rubble. Yet true to his nature, even as he guarded the entrance to the treasure room while his clan members searched within, he considered the future and what steps he must take to achieve his vision.

The Twelve Sun Empire would clearly enter a period of hardship, a precarious path that could end their long history if not navigated carefully. With many masters likely to perish in these trying times, his importance would grow, and with that importance would come danger. Was this truly suitable timing to build a family?

Logic said no. Yet there was a saying that children who grew in turmoil emerged stronger. Still, his son might lack the necessary fortitude and might not survive long enough to prove himself.

But waiting too long carried its own risks, and he might not have time to get married.

After much deliberation, he decided that if he survived the operation, he would marry. Although he only wanted one son, ensuring at least one child would survive these troubled times meant he needed more. Five or six would be ideal.

As he began structuring their theoretical education, considering every possibility from all-female offspring to children without backbone, a shout echoed from within the treasure room.

He turned toward their group's leader.

"Mission completed!" Yang Yuchen called out, carrying several spatial bags around his waist. He wore a blue mantle over his red robe, adorned with a golden necklace and boots and a gleaming silver hairpin securing his topknot.

Yang Suyin looked around at his friends and colleagues, who were similarly adorned with treasures from head to toe.

Seeing them, he scowled. "You took too long choosing treasures. You should have grabbed what you could see."

Yang Yuchen snorted. "Easy for you to say when you can only carry two treasures. We common folk don't have such limitations, so we must consider the harmony between our choices."

Yang Suyin scowl deepened. He practiced a particularly sensitive cultivation scripture. Though still based in fire, it was delicate enough that wearing too many treasures would interfere with his qi. That was why he could only take two items: a pendant to enhance his qi control and a sword capable of extending its blade several meters, serving as an ideal conduit for his technique. Meager pickings compared to the others, but it would suffice.

"A shame most of the treasures the Prince brought are beyond our use," remarked a man beside Yang Yuchen. Though he appeared in his fifties, he was actually eighty years old and possessed only a single core.