301: Chapter 301 The Secret of the Metal Plate

Thick, warm, and reeking of putrid blood, the air hung like a heavy, tangible curtain, shrouding this small, sunken, and fragile "island" held open by a cold metal plate.

Ling Ye lay collapsed on the cold metal plate, his consciousness submerged at the bottom of a bottomless, freezing black sea of ice.

Every attempt to rise to the surface brought a fatigue that felt like his Soul was being torn apart, along with a deep, bone-piercing agony radiating from every part of his body, as if he were being repeatedly pierced by countless red-hot steel needles.

He did not know how long he had been unconscious.

Perhaps only a moment, or perhaps a long time had passed.

Time, in the gut of this living Hell, had long since lost its meaning.

The only thing clear was the faint yet continuous throbbing coming from "the key" mark on his chest, like the final, unwilling palpitations of a heart about to stop beating.

And, through the cold, hard sensation of the metal plate beneath him, came a trace of an extremely faint yet exceptionally resilient, cool, and ancient echo of Order—a non-living presence that seemed capable of soothing the restlessness and pain of his Soul.

This echo, like a faint, ice-blue lamp in the darkness that could go out at any moment yet never did, barely illuminated his consciousness, which was on the verge of total collapse.

It provided his shattered body with an extremely small, yet real, natural, and cold repulsion and isolation against the ubiquitous, maddening pollution of the living flesh around him.

It was precisely this trace of an echo that prevented him, while unconscious, from being completely devoured by those mad mental whispers, or from being slowly and silently assimilated and digested by the surrounding living, digestive-fluid-secreting flesh environment.

With great difficulty and extreme slowness, he gathered a sliver of his remaining consciousness, attempting to "open" his heavy eyelids, which felt as if they had been glued shut.

His vision was blurry and doubled, with nothing but a dark red, squirming, and nauseating background.

He blinked hard a few times, and his vision became slightly clearer.

The first thing that came into view was Old Shi, still leaning against the metal plate with eyes closed, though its breathing seemed steadier and longer than before Ling Ye had lost consciousness.

On its right wrist and shoulder, that layer of brand-new composite energy light film, interwoven with pale gold and ice blue, remained dim but structurally stable.

It showed no new cracks, firmly blocking out those hideous black fissures.

Its complexion, though still pale, at least no longer possessed that near-transparent, dead silence.

Beneath the pale skin, one could even faintly discern a trace of extremely weak, pale pink signs of Qi and blood circulation, belonging to life itself.

The rescue was temporarily successful.

Old Shi's life was temporarily saved.

The string in Ling Ye's heart, tightened to the extreme, could finally relax just a tiny, microscopic bit.

But immediately, a deeper, extreme sense of weakness and emptiness, as if it were about to drain his Soul dry, surged over him like a tide, instantly engulfing him.

His strength was completely exhausted.

"the key" mark was dim and lusterless, sending waves of hollow, stinging pain, like a completely emptied, dried-up, and shattering vessel.

His Meridians were like a desert scorched by fire—completely dead silent, with no sense of any energy flow.

His muscles and bones felt as if they had fallen apart; even moving a finger felt unimaginably heavy and agonizing.

He was now almost no different from a cripple.

No, he was even weaker than an ordinary cripple.

Any weak, low-level polluted creature living in this Hell of flesh could easily take his life right now.

The desperate situation had not changed due to this temporary respite.

It had merely shifted from immediate death to a slow, yet equally certain, march toward death.

He must... restore his strength.

Even if only a little.

He moved his eyes with difficulty, his gaze falling upon the cold, unknown metal plate beneath him—the object that emitted a faint echo of Order and had saved both his and Old Shi's lives.

This metal plate was the only thing he could see that might contain a "variable."

Using every bit of his remaining strength, Ling Ye slowly, bit by bit, struggled to turn from his back onto his side, then, inch by inch, like a worm, he moved closer to the junction where the metal plate met the surrounding squirming, fleshy cavity walls.

That was the place where the metal plate was embedded deepest into the flesh, where it "opposed" this living Hell most intensely, and where its "essence" was most clearly manifested.

He reached out with his trembling left hand, covered in blood and slime, and his fingertips gently brushed across the edge of the metal plate—a surface that was cold and smooth, yet etched with precise, ancient energy patterns that emitted a faint blue light.

The sensation was a world apart from the warm, slippery, and constantly squirming flesh around it.

He concentrated all his remaining Mental Energy, attempting to "read" those patterns.

The style of the patterns was different from the "Monument Guardian" metal plates he had seen before, as well as the patterns of the "Court of World Purification."

They were more concise, rigid, and filled with a certain cold, non-emotional, and purely "functional" and "archival" quality, reminiscent of geometry and stars.

Faintly, there seemed to be a trace of an extremely distant, extremely weak, and elusive resonance with the rhythm of the "Ancient Ring" mark deep within his Soul—a rhythm that was even more ancient and vast.

But this resonance was too weak to provide any more information.

Ling Ye gritted his teeth and, using his fingertips, cautiously began to peel and scrape away the disgusting covering at the edge of the metal plate—a dark red substance, like a mixture of biological connective tissue and dried slime, that was coating, wrapping, and eroding the plate.

The covering was exceptionally tough and sticky, clinging tightly to the surface of the metal plate as if it were alive.

Every bit he scraped off cost him immense effort and brought a wave of intense dizziness.

But he didn't care; he just continued to clean it, mechanically and stubbornly, bit by bit.

He did not know how long had passed, but when a small, palm-sized area at the edge of the metal plate, where it met the flesh, was finally cleared—revealing a relatively clean, intact metal surface with exceptionally clear patterns beneath—Ling Ye's gaze suddenly sharpened!

In the center of those clear, ancient energy patterns, in the area he had cleared, he saw an extremely small yet exceptionally exquisite, recessed, dark silver groove!

It was consistent with the style of the surrounding patterns and seemed to be some kind of "interface" or "identification point," shaped like a simplified star, or... a keyhole!

The shape and size of this groove, along with the cold, non-living, and highly refined, yet extremely restrained, fluctuation of Order it emitted, actually... produced an unprecedented, clear, direct, and intense resonance with the core form of "the key" mark deep within his Soul, as well as the more fundamental, spatial anchoring, and guarding rhythm of the "Ancient Ring" mark!

It was as if this groove had been specially designed for "the key" mark, or for some higher-level "authorization" or "identification" of an Order-based existence that shared the same source as "the key" and the "Ancient Ring"!

A crazy thought, like lightning, split the fog in Ling Ye's mind, which had become chaotic due to weakness and agony!

Could it be...

Ling Ye's almost extinguished heart-fire suddenly reignited and began to beat again!

Although still faint, it was filled with an unprecedented, cold, and sharp hope!

But immediately following, a more realistic problem arose.

To activate this groove and establish a deeper connection with the remains of this ancient "suppression object," it would likely require a deep resonance from "the key" mark, and perhaps even some kind of response from the "Ancient Ring" mark.

But right now, "the key" mark was drained of power and lusterless; while the "Ancient Ring" mark was vast and resilient, its power level was too high, and he currently could not actively mobilize or guide it at all—he could only passively and extremely faintly perceive its rhythm.

He needed energy.

He needed a large amount of pure energy to re-light and activate "the key" mark on his chest, and perhaps even attempt to "touch" or "trigger" the vast "Ancient Ring" mark deep within his Soul.

Where would the energy come from?

His gaze fell once again upon the cold metal plate.

Could this remnant of the "suppression object," having endured long ages and the erosion of pollution, still emit a faint echo of Order because it contained, deep within, a final, pure, and ancient energy of Order that was still sealed and not yet completely eroded by the pollution?

If... he could use the faint resonance of "the key" mark as a "catalyst" to attempt to "extract" and "guide" out that last, possible remnant of ancient Order energy from within the metal plate—energy that shared the same source as "the key" and the "Ancient Ring"—to "feed back" into and "activate" "the key" mark on his chest...

This thought was extremely dangerous.

A slight misstep could not only fail to guide out the energy but could also completely destroy the fragile balance of the metal plate, causing its echo of Order to dissipate and losing its ability to isolate them from the surrounding pollution, instantly exposing them to an even more terrifying polluted environment.

It might even trigger some ancient defensive or self-destruction mechanism remaining within the metal plate, leading to devastating consequences.

But this was currently the only visible path where there was a possibility of obtaining energy.

Should he take the risk of total destruction, gamble, and try to obtain power to activate the possible "portal"?

Or should he remain on this fragile "island," waiting in slow weakness and despair for a more direct threat of death that could arrive at any moment?

Ling Ye's gaze became cold and sharp once again, like a quenched blade.

He had no choice.

He had to gamble.

He slowly placed his left hand back onto the surface of the metal plate, over the area he had just cleared with the strange groove.

This time, his fingertips gently touched and pressed against the center of the groove.

Then, he closed his eyes, using all his remaining Mental Energy to concentrate, condense, and squeeze the dim "the key" mark on his chest, attempting to once again stimulate a sliver—even the faintest one—of pure, pale gold Order fluctuation that represented "permission," "connection," and "return," and carefully, through his fingertips, inject it into the groove.

"Hum..."

A faint, deep, and cold resonance, as if coming from the end of an ancient time and space, carrying the sound of heavy dust being brushed away, emanated slowly but exceptionally clearly from deep within the groove beneath his fingertips.