Soon after, William Sherman took off the small pendant from his neck—the one he never seemed willing to remove. He opened the bottle, gently poured out a little, and a cluster of tiny sparks flew from his fingertips, landing precisely on the slender wick formed by blood threads. Inside the Soulbound Lamp, a faint, firefly-like glow slowly rose.

William Sherman lowered his head and took Logan Sullivan's injured finger into his mouth.

"Wait, that's it?" Logan Sullivan said. "Didn't that King of the Underrealm say he needed to draw a tube of blood from my heart?"

"The ten fingers are connected to the heart," William Sherman replied. "The wick of the Soulbound Lamp has been lost for thousands of years. The underworld just wants a protective artifact to keep the Soulbound Lamp burning for generations. I only have half a day to reseal the Four Pillars—one thread is enough."

At this point, William Sherman looked up and addressed everyone: "Warden of Highspire, as the Mountain Sage, bestowed the Four Pillars. Although I have inherited thirty-six rivers and mountains, I was born impure and ultimately cannot establish any connection with the Four Sages. I sincerely ask for your help, and would be deeply grateful."

He revealed his true appearance: long hair cascading down, an innate trace of demonic aura strangely and contradictorily mingling with the noble grace of a gentleman—an indescribable, unparalleled elegance.

No one could refuse him.

Zach Warren and Zane Shaw exchanged a glance and walked side by side to stand beneath the Terra-Spike. Darrin Grant gripped the golden bell at his neck in his mouth and turned toward the Virtue Quill. Carrying his large bone club, Old Barnes looked at one, then the other, and finally hung a crispy fried fish from his club before silently following Darrin Grant. Julian West took out a string of 108 beads and stood beneath the Reincarnation Sundial.

Embergrower’s Cauldron was just about to go over when Logan Sullivan suddenly called out, "Hey, you there."

Embergrower’s Cauldron, using Mr. Sullivan Sr.'s body, turned around. "You there?"

"..." Logan Sullivan said, "Don't you ever get enough of taking advantage? Do you really think you're my dad now?—Come here, I have something to tell you."

Embergrower’s Cauldron smiled helplessly and followed Logan Sullivan aside. "Warden of Highspire, please speak."

Logan Sullivan leaned against the Grand Hawthorn, glanced down, and saw that beneath the Grand Hawthorn everything seemed extremely calm, as if nothing extraordinary was being suppressed there... and there was only half a day left. His cigarette case was already empty, so he reached into Mr. Sullivan Sr.'s pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, claimed it for himself without hesitation, and lit one.

After a moment of silence, Logan Sullivan finally spoke in a low voice: "Actually, I have a favor to ask you."

Embergrower’s Cauldron replied quietly, "I wouldn't dare."

"Really," Logan Sullivan said, "I'm my parents' only son. I should have taken care of them in their old age and seen them off, but I didn't make it in time. Even so, I don't want them to suffer the pain of losing their only child. Can you think of a way for me?"

Embergrower’s Cauldron was silent for a while. "I... don't quite understand what Warden of Highspire means."

Logan Sullivan: "Don't play dumb. I think you understand perfectly well."

Embergrower’s Cauldron gave him a deep look. "So in the end, is it because you promised to live and die together with him that the Soulwarden can fulfill his duty without hesitation?"

"Bullshit," Logan Sullivan shot him a glance and carelessly blew out a smoke ring. "That's a separate matter. You think I'm selling myself?"

Realizing he had misspoken, Embergrower’s Cauldron lowered his head and was silent for a moment. "I understand."

Logan Sullivan stared into his eyes and heard Embergrower’s Cauldron say, word by word, "If Warden of Highspire is no longer in this world, I will leave your father's body and live on as 'Logan Sullivan', so the Mountain Sage can rest assured."

"Live well, and live more like 'Logan Sullivan'," Logan Sullivan said, "rebelliously" giving his father's shoulder a firm pat. "Enjoy what should be enjoyed, handle what needs to be handled. Thank you."

With that, he took two deep drags, stubbed out the cigarette that he hadn't finished in his haste, and brushed past Embergrower’s Cauldron.

Medicine Cauldron walked over to where Reincarnation Sundial and Julian West were, while Logan Sullivan stood alone beneath the Soulbound Lamp.

Logan Sullivan gently touched the Soulbound Lamp. The lamp's body was engraved with uneven inscriptions, identical to those on the back of the Soulbound Order. He felt a strange sensation, as if this lamp was truly connected to his flesh and blood. The flickering flame seemed to miraculously synchronize with his heartbeat, as if two people were standing there—him from thousands of years ago, and him from thousands of years later—no different from each other.

A surge of indescribable emotion welled up in Logan Sullivan's heart. So, the world had already changed countless times, yet he himself, like a thousand-year-old tortoise, remained utterly unchanged. Truly, he was steadfast to the end.

William Sherman turned to look at the shopkeeper guarding the boundary between yin and yang. The old man, along with the night shift staff from No. 4 Radiant Way, gathered outside the great formation. The wrinkled elder raised his head, loosely cupped his fists in the ancient style, and saluted William Sherman: "This old man is of little use, but I will protect the immortal."

William Sherman nodded. Then he raised his hand and, stroke by stroke, wrote ancient characters from the gods and demons of the heavens in the air. The words themselves seemed to possess power, rippling through the air like water, each stroke resonating with echoes from a distant era. Then William Sherman pressed his joined fingers into a palm and struck the entire passage of text. All the strokes shattered and flew to the four corners, landing on each person's brow.

In that instant, everyone heard the ancient incantation passed down from the dawn of time. It was so weighty that it stirred an urge to bow in worship, rising spontaneously from their hearts.

At last, William Sherman glanced southward, meeting Logan Sullivan's gaze in midair. Suddenly, he smiled very softly, like spring flowers blooming in an instant.

Inside the Hall of the Underrealm King, all was chaos and darkness. Holly Harlow couldn't see anything and wandered about in confusion. Only the branch of Primewood given to her by William Sherman glowed faintly white in her hand, forming an invisible protective shield around her, thoroughly isolating her from the terrifying ghosts and the all-devouring chaos outside. The seemingly delicate little sprout on the branch appeared even greener than before.

Suddenly, Holly Harlow heard someone anxiously calling her name. She turned and saw Uncle Seth huddled awkwardly in a crack of the Hall of the Underrealm King, carefully hiding beneath a huge scale—that was the Faelan’s Scale, one of the sacred relics of the snake clan, which Holly Harlow recognized.

He seemed badly injured, unable to maintain human form, his lower body revealing a green snake tail.

When Uncle Seth saw her, he was first shocked, then immediately scolded her harshly: "What are you doing here? Why didn't you leave with the Grandmaster just now? Do you not care about your life?!"

He glanced outside, then quickly slithered out from the rocks, wrapped his long tail around Holly Harlow, and pulled her into the crevice. Blood still stained the corner of his mouth, and his face was pale with anger as he faced Holly Harlow: "None of the clan's children are as foolish as you. Don't you know it's dangerous? Don't you know to run?"

Holly Harlow: "I was worried about you, Fourth Uncle..."

Uncle Seth coldly interrupted her: "It's not your place, a little brat who can't even transform properly, to worry about me."

As he spoke, he checked Holly Harlow up and down, only to find she was completely unharmed, not even a scratch. Only then did he relax, snorting, "Lucky you."

Holly Harlow raised the branch of Primewood: "It was given to me by the Soulwarden."

Uncle Seth narrowed his eyes. "Primewood? Why would he just give this away? What else did he tell you?"

"He said if these two sprouts survive, I should find a good place to plant them."

Hearing this, Uncle Seth's mind raced. Suddenly, he leaned heavily against the stone wall of the Hall of the Underrealm King, his brows tightly furrowed. "So the Great Seal is about to break, and he's making arrangements... Has the Great Seal already broken?"

Holly Harlow was completely confused, but didn't dare interrupt his thoughts, so she stood quietly to the side. After a while, Uncle Seth finally said to her in a low voice, "You really are a lucky fool—keep it safe."

Holly Harlow immediately nodded in agreement. Just then, she suddenly exclaimed, holding the branch of Primewood up to Uncle Seth: "Look!"

On the branch, as thick as two fingers, a patch of pale green had somehow broken through the dry, rough bark, revealing a tender tip—a third bud had sprouted where there had only been two before!

Holly Harlow exclaimed in surprise, "What's going on? William Sherman said that tree had only ever grown two buds in thousands of years."

"'William Sherman'—is that what you call him?" Uncle Seth glared at her, then paused before saying, "Divine Highspirewood is as old as heaven and earth, the origin of all life. Back then, Lifesmith wanted to use a branch of the sacred tree to suppress the entrance to the land of great disrespect. She harbored murderous intent, and so grew a tree that was dead before it lived... Now, for the branch to sprout new buds for no reason, perhaps someone's heart has changed."