Channeling my Qi, I spread my senses over the entire machine, searching for weaknesses.

  Several thick, glowing red tubes plunge deep into the magma, and a massive, frayed cable—clearly meant to lead somewhere—dangles uselessly to the side.

  Right. Plan B: sever the power source. I grip one of the tubes, which glows a furious red, practically vibrating with heat.

  Even after pumping all my Qi into my arms, I can’t budge it. Any attempts to tug or haul it up prove pointless.

  After draining my Qi, I sit down, ready to cultivate again, and brainstorm my next move. I feel so pathetically weak.

  If only I had more Adamantine… Maybe I could transform into something stronger. The sea serpent from before would be perfect. Regret nips at me. I should have kept one Adamantine bar.

  “Do you have any more of those ores?” I yell back at Rexy, hoping for a miracle.

  Rexy shakes its head vigorously, giving me a look that clearly says, “You’re on your own with this one.”

  Same as before, I pull in the Qi around me in a swirling vortex. But this time, it feels… different. I feel a rush of heat in my abdomen.

  The Qi gathers into its usual point, but the heat grows stronger, radiating through my entire body.

  As the heat washes over me, I keep absorbing more Qi until… a final wave of superheated energy explodes within me… then, it’s instantly compressed and squeezed into a single point.

  The stone-sized core within me has become a slightly bigger orb, and I sense a faint warmth flickering within it, like a small ember of flame.

  Is the Qi here special? Looking at this firefly inferno, I’m not too surprised. I channel my Qi once more, this time drawing from the faint warmth within the core.

  As it cycles through my body, I sense a vastly more powerful enhancement than before. I even sense the Qi energize the air around me.

  This Qi seems to have some special properties. It seems able to burst out all at once, which allows for one extremely powerful punch or kick, which will spend all the Qi I have.

  It also immensely increases my strength at the cost of having a slower speed. However, just like the Qi from before, once it is not in the body, I have absolutely no control over it.

  Too bad, no Kamehameha…

  If, instead of drawing Qi from the flame, I draw my Qi as I normally did, my strength and speed return to what they were before, with some slight improvements.

  Running my thoughts through all the cultivation novels from my past life, I conclude that different extreme environments have different Qi, which has elemental typings.

  The Qi here has a fire elemental typing. I wonder if I leave this place I'll still be able to use this fire-type Qi.

  With my newfound strength, I make another attempt to hoist the tubes out of the magma.

  But reality is… nothing changed… Even with such a massive increase in my strength, the tube doesn’t budge from the magma.

  An insane idea pops into my mind as I stare at the molten pool. I plunge my hand in.

  Nothing… I feel absolutely nothing, not even the warmth from the Qi. I scoop up a handful of magma. It’s surprisingly viscous, almost like thick honey.

  On another whim, I step onto the pool and stomp my foot. The moment I do, the liquid lava solidifies under my weight. A non-Newtonian fluid!

  “I’m going down,” I announce to Rexy, a wide grin spreading across my face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  Rexy stares at me, jaw agape, as I casually hop into the magma. "See ya in a bit!" I call, already sinking. So much for these clothes. They're probably dust by now.

  Eyes closed, I stretch my senses, keeping a firm grip on the tube. I stay still, sinking slowly, deeper and deeper.

  It feels just like sinking into a pool of honey, not that I have any previous experience.

  Reaching the end of the tube, I finally understand the impossible-to-move situation. It's shaped like a massive anchor.

  Seriously, it's practically designed to stay put. I sink below it, heft the anchor above my head, and then, channeling Qi into my legs, I begin rapidly treading the viscous liquid below.

  Just like I thought, I start rising. Like climbing an invisible staircase, I push myself upwards, stomping harder and faster with each "step."

  This is one heck of a stair-climber workout. I keep at it until I finally burst back through the surface, sending molten rock flying everywhere.

  Tossing the anchor onto a nearby solid rock creates a satisfying thump.

  SCIENCE!

  Rexy bounds over, jumping excitedly and letting out a delighted "Arghhh!" as if giving me a standing ovation.

  With the other tubes still submerged, I get to work. One by one, I pull the anchors up through the magma.

  With each successful retrieval, Rexy jumps and makes more complimentary noises, like a hyperactive, prehistoric cheerleader. "Argh! Argh-argh! Arghhh!" It's quite the performance.

  It feels like eons before all the anchors are out.

  Good thing I never feel tired in this body. My initial plan of a dramatic magma dive for a happy ending clearly isn't going to work out. Back to the drawing board.

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  Okay, the machine’s energy gathering seems to be slowing down. Progress! Now, I just need to relocate this potential meltdown machine to a safe disposal zone.

  Leaving it here is a bad idea. This whole area could become a lava lake, and if it does, this thing will go critical again. This thing is basically a molten time bomb.

  But how am I supposed to move it? Rexy will get burned just getting close.

  With all the anchors finally on solid ground, the machine’s base actually budges. I can move it! By pushing it along the ground, I manage to shift it… a couple of centimeters at a time.

  Hey, progress is progress, even if it’s measured in millimeters.

  “Rexy, which way to the bottom of the sea?” I ask her. She’s staring at the slowly inching machine with wide, awestruck eyes. “Just point me in the right direction and lead the way.”

  It’s a good thing there’s solid ground to push this thing on. Too bad I couldn’t detach the anchors.

  The joints are practically fused to the machine, while the tubes are way too strong for me to even think about snapping.

  Slowly, painstakingly, I push the machine, centimeter by agonizing centimeter. Rexy builds a tiny ramp for me; I am moving like a giant, molten snail.

  And so, we begin our epic, millimeter-by-millimeter journey toward the bottom of the sea.

  “Make sure to collapse the path behind us, Rexy,” I tell her.

  By the time we reach the seabed, I don't want the ocean flooding that magma-filled hellhole. That would almost certainly trigger a rather unpleasant volcanic explosion.

  This body feels no pain or fatigue, which, ironically, has become a special kind of mental torture. I push, little by little.

  I'm stuck in an endless workout montage with no music and only one exercise: pushing. When my mind can't take it, I take breaks to practice some fighting techniques.

  Rexy makes a surprisingly great training partner. Between pushing that infernal machine, I practice dodging and sparring with her.

  With each session, I get a little better at controlling my Qi and combat in this body.

  Time crawls by. Or maybe it’s sprinting. I honestly can’t tell. All I know is I have to keep pushing. And that red-hot machine shows no sign of cooling down.

  Rexy leaves and returns countless times. Once, she proudly trots back with the carcass of an Umbrynus, which I promptly reject with a grimace.

  “Seriously, Rexy? That’s just…gross. Do you know where that’s been?” She looks genuinely confused, tilting her massive head.

  Another time, Rexy brings back some live Umbrynus, which I use for… let’s call it “interactive combat training.” They always end up as Rexy’s lunch, of course.

  She’d look at me with those big, puppy-dog eyes, as if to say, “Did I do good, master?” I’d just sigh. “You did good, Rexy. Now, try not to get any bits stuck in your teeth.”

  The routine I’ve built is: push, cultivate, push, fight Rexy, cultivate, push, fight Umbrynus, cultivate, push. Slowly spiraling upwards—that’s my only purpose right now.

  Why did I agree to this mess? Why do I even care if this thing explodes? What if it explodes anyway and destroys everything?

  What if… Hundreds of thoughts race through my head as I continue to push.

  “Maybe I should have left with Bailey,” I mutter to myself.

  An unknown amount of time passes. Days? Weeks? Maybe even months.

  Immortality. So this is it? I take another small step, driven by a purpose that, in the grand scheme of things, won’t even affect me.

  A darker thought flickers through my mind: What if I just let it explode? Would that set me free? I quickly shove the thought away. Nope. Not today, existential dread.

  After countless cycles, the dry walls steadily become damp. The cave has basically turned into a sauna.

  “Did we finally make it?” I mutter. We stand in a large open space Rexy dug out. Water pours down on us from above, even though we’re underground, instantly turning to steam.

  “You know how to swim?” I ask Rexy, who shakes her massive head, sending droplets of condensed steam flying.

  “I guess you’re not a fan of water. No wonder you smell like that,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Arrrher!” Rexy protests, giving me a playful nudge with her snout.

  “Okay, okay. Just kidding,” I say, patting Rexy on the head. “Seriously though, I guess this is it.” I give her another pat.

  “Thanks for sticking with me this whole time. You kept me from going completely bonkers. You should get out of here now, and go far, far away. I’ll finish the rest.”

  “Arr,” Rexy says, looking reluctant, her big eyes fixed on me.

  “You have to go. I don’t know what’ll happen when the seawater comes crashing in,” I tell Rexy, gesturing towards the now-visible cracks in the ceiling where the water is pouring through.

  “To be honest, I don’t really know you. I might have Val’s body, but… well, I only arrived in this world recently. It’s complicated.”

  “Arrga?” Rexy looks even more confused, tilting her head.

  “Dr. Keyser is dead. I’ll take care of this. You’re completely free,” I assure Rexy.

  She seems to finally understand, giving my face a quick, wet lick with her long tongue before turning and lumbering towards the tunnel she’d dug.

  “And remember to collapse the tunnels behind you,” I call after her.

  Rexy turns and lumbers back into the tunnels, which promptly seal themselves shut behind her with a low rumble.

  Now, it's just me and the damp, echoing silence of this cramped, soon-to-be-flooded space.

  This really does feel like solitary confinement. Good thing my sentence is about to be commuted—by seawater, no less.

  I wait patiently in the darkness, giving Rexy a good head start before I begin my own ascent—or rather, my impromptu seabed excavation.

  Alright, time to get this show on the road!

  I stand up and glance at the steady stream of seawater dripping from the cavern’s ceiling.

  If I just stay put, this whole place is going to blow its top. Way too much steam is building up, like a pressure cooker about to go off.

  After a quick mental risk assessment, I decide this is probably the best course of action.

  The seawater will cool the machine, and the immense pressure at the bottom of the sea will hopefully contain any potential explosions.

  Fingers crossed, toes crossed, everything crossed.

  Channeling my Qi, I sense and locate the main source of the dripping water, which is now more like a small waterfall.

  Infusing my limbs with flaming Qi, I launch myself upward in a powerful uppercut. My fist connects with the cave’s roof, the impact sending shockwaves through the rock and a fresh deluge of water gushing down, instantly soaking me.

  Landing back on the cavern floor with a splash, I launch myself upward again—a second, third, fourth time… With each leap, I hammer at the ceiling, a relentless, circular pattern of punches chipping away at the rock’s stubborn resistance.

  Then—whoosh. The roof finally gives way with a deafening roar.

  A monstrous wave of seawater crashes down, slamming into me and the machine with the force of a runaway train. The flood engulfs us, dragging us into its chaotic, churning depths.

  Around the machine, the water sizzles and hisses, instantly transforming into clouds of steam. The steam tries to expand, but the crushing weight of the sea above holds it back, creating a noisy, turbulent mess.

  The process repeats, each cycle of pressure and heat roaring like a battle between fire and water. Steam hisses, and bubbles pop in rapid succession.

  Finally, as the violent process reaches its end, the machine’s fiery red glow dims, fading to a cold, ominous black.

  Small sea creatures that had been beside me now float lifeless and thoroughly cooked as we slowly bob to the surface.

  Woohoo! Crisis averted. Anticlimactic? Yes! But hey, does the bomb always have to explode? I mean, come on! Someone’s gotta break the trope, right?

  Rexy definitely has a fantastic adventure out there, I think to myself with a slight sadness. Bailey’s cooking sounds really good right now.