The air in the Fourth Basement was not merely cold; it was heavy, saturated with a stillness that felt like a physical weight against the lungs. It was the silence of a tomb that had forgotten the concept of death, preserved by the humming vitality of the Spirit Spring. As the iron gate of the lift settled into its groove, the Jade Tiger moved. It did not growl. It did not breathe. The automaton shifted with a series of crystalline clicks, its jade joints sliding over one another with a precision that mocked the clumsiness of flesh. When its ruby eyes locked onto Kael, a low-frequency pulse rippled through the chamber, making the water of the Spirit Spring dance in geometric patterns. "Beautiful," Isabella whispered, her silver sword tracing a shimmering arc in the dim light. "I almost feel a pang of guilt for what I’m about to do to its craftsmanship." "Save your pity for the living," Kael said, his voice a jagged edge in the silence. "Ren, the lock." Ren didn't hesitate. The