It hung in the air like a storm about to break—heavy, choking, deafening.
Every breath was ragged. Every heartbeat thundered.
The towering sand pillars, birthed from the Sandbone Worm's fury, were nearly upon them.
Massive walls of crushing force surged toward the caravan, blotting out the horizon with apocalyptic finality. There was nowhere to run. No path to escape.
Flashes of light erupted to the left and right as everyone poured their life force into desperate attacks—sword attacks, talismans, artifacts hurled toward the oncoming disaster.
Dust and energy whipped across the dunes, but nothing seemed enough.
Time seems to slow down.
The sand pillars marched forward like titanic judges of death.
'Is this the end?' Mo Jian's thoughts echoed in the void of despair. His breath caught in his throat as cold dread pooled in his chest.
Even with two Golden Core Experts, the greatest strength they could muster, they still couldn't stop the wrath of this cursed land—the Desert of the Fallen.
'No... No!' he screamed in his mind.
He couldn't accept this. Not now. Not here.
He wasn't just another unfortunate traveler—he was a transmigrator, armed with knowledge beyond this world, blessed with a golden finger.
His journey had barely begun. How could it end in such a meaningless, suffocating death?
His fists clenched. His jaw tightened. His heart pounded like a war drum against his ribs.
Emotions surged through him like a storm-tossed sea. He had so much more to do—so many enemies to conquer, destinies to rewrite.
But against this overwhelming force, what could he do?
The moment that would've marked their death froze mid-beat.
The sand pillars... slowed.
Like time itself hesitated.
Gasps erupted across the caravan. Mo Jian's eyes widened in disbelief. His lips parted but no words came.
Before them, high above the ground, Elder Bai Delan had stepped directly into the path of the devastation.
Runes—thousands of them—swirled around him like a celestial barrier, glowing and pulsing with otherworldly light.
Each rune shone like a star, burning with ethereal energy, woven into intricate formations that crackled in the air.
The sight was breathtaking. Terrifying.
No one moved. No one spoke.
Even the monstrous Sandbone Worm, hidden behind the wall of sand, paused in confusion. It hissed in agitation, attempting to push forward—but its colossal body met an invisible wall.
An incomprehensible pressure—crushed it from all sides.
Its armored scales buckled. Its movement slowed. It thrashed against the force like a fish caught in a whirlpool.
Mo Jian stared at the blinding runes, his eyes reflecting their light. A flicker of understanding flashed in his gaze.
"Gravity..." he whispered.
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He wasn't doomed—not yet.
"What are you doing?! I can only hold it for a few more seconds!" Elder Bai's voice roared across the battlefield, strained and raw. Veins bulged from his neck, his face twisted in pain and effort.
Mo Jian jolted back to reality.
"MOVE NOW!" he bellowed.
The guards whipped the reins, and the Cloud Chase Horses charged forward, galloping like shadows fleeing the judgment of heaven.
The Sandbone Worm, sensing its prey escaping, let out a soul-piercing shriek. It began to shake violently. The pressure increased. The gravity runes shattered one after another.
Each rune that broke sent a backlash through Elder Bai's soul. Blood burst from his lips. His knees buckled.
"Elder Bai, let go!" Elder Zhao shouted from above.
Without waiting, he unleashed another sword strike to draw attention away, carving a brilliant arc across the dunes.
Elder Bai canceled the technique. His body slumped, legs giving way—but just before he fell, Elder Zhao flashed to his side, catching him mid-air.
Together, they retreated, battered but alive.
Behind them, the Sandbone Worm shrieked and thrashed, its mountainous body twisting in rage. Sand exploded around it as it dove back into the dunes.
But its wrath had not subsided.
It turned with lethal intent in the direction of the caravan, determined to finish what it started.
Never had it allowed prey to escape its domain. Never.
A strange wind shrieked across the desert.
A low, guttural rumble swept through the air.
The skies darkened unnaturally.
A towering wall of sand twisted in the distance—soaring into the heavens. The entire Desert of the Fallen seemed to awaken.
Mo Jian turned, eyes narrowing.
"The Ghost Face Sandstorm…"
The monstrous storm approached like a god of death, its core shaped into a grim, shifting visage—a grotesque mask of sand and wind that bore down upon them with inescapable fury.
In that moment, even the mighty Sandbone Worm hesitated.
The overlord of the desert dove into the sand, choosing to vanish rather than challenge the higher power that now loomed.
Ahead, the Thousand Wealth Chamber caravan pushed onward at full speed, kicking up trails of dust in its wake.
They had escaped the worm… but only to face something even worse.
The wind grew stronger.
As the ghostly sandstorm drew closer, Mo Jian's gut clenched.
"Damn it!" he cursed aloud.
Since leaving the Southern Region capital, their journey had been cursed—bandits, vengeful spirits, beast tides, Desert Scorpions, the Sandbone Worm—and now this.
Before them loomed the towering Ghost Face Sandstorm, thousands of meters high, swirling with the faces of the damned.
Despair gripped the caravan again.
"Is this our end?" Elder Bai whispered, his voice hoarse, leaning weakly on Zhao's shoulder.
Elder Zhao opened his mouth—but no words came.
Then—"Look! That's a cave!" shouted a voice.
Lonely Spear pointed toward a fissure created by the earlier chaos. Within the jagged cracks was a small opening—a dark hole leading underground.
Hope flared in Mo Jian's eyes.
"GO THERE IMMEDIATELY!"
The caravan turned, galloping toward the cave with everything they had. The Ghost Face Sandstorm bore down on them, now less than twenty meters away, howling with apocalyptic rage.
The ground trembled. The wind screamed.
But the Cloud Chase Horses were unrelenting, their hooves drumming against uneven terrain like thunder.
Every heartbeat counted.
One by one, they dived into the cave—carriages, guards, horses—all cramming into the narrow safety of the fissure.
The howls of the storm were just behind them—a banshee scream of destruction.
Just as the last of them entered, including Elders Bai and Zhao, a deafening roar exploded outside.
The entrance collapsed.
Sand poured in, sealing them within darkness.
The outside world vanished.
Inside, silence reigned—broken only by ragged breathing.
No one dared move. No one dared speak.