Chiantai Wuji's fist crashed into the wall of the hut with a devastating force. A moment later, a strange, cracking sound echoed through the air—not the sound of wood or wall, but something that seemed to rise from space itself... the sound of reality splitting open.
Time seemed to stop. The ground beneath him trembled, and unseen fractures traced through the air like spiderwebs. Like a mirror cracking, space shattered. Colors inverted, images stretched, and everything began to unravel like a cloth caught in the wind. The mortal village, which had seemed calm and still only moments ago, suddenly crumbled like a thin layer of illusion.
Chiantai Wuji stood motionless. He didn't blink, didn't step back. His gaze was calm and heavy, like someone who had long awaited this moment. As though the world wasn't breaking apart, but merely unveiling one of its veils. In his eyes, there was no astonishment, no fear—only affirmation.
With the final crack, the scene changed.
---
When everything collapsed and space reshaped itself, Chiantai Wuji found himself standing in a place that bore no resemblance to the mortal village. There was no hut, no cultivated lands, no people with hollow smiles walking the streets.
Beneath his feet lay bone. Bone and parched earth.
As far as the eye could see, hills of bone rose before him. Skulls piled one atop another, broken ribs and bones from humans—and perhaps creatures unknown—mingled and amassed in a deadly silence. The bones stretched before him like pale waves of death, as if the earth itself was made of them.
The air was dark. Overhead, the sky was shrouded in thick, heavy clouds that blocked any hint of light like dense smoke. Now and then, a massive thunderclap rolled through the heavens, casting flashes of bluish-white light across the bones. Then, darkness returned once more.
A cold wind blew—no natural wind, but more like the breath of a dead being. Each gust amplified the crackle of bones. It moved across Chiantai Wuji's skin like biting frost.
He stepped forward slightly. The sound of bones crunching underfoot broke the silence. But he himself made no sound. Without emotion, he merely observed.
This world was ruthless. So, there was no need for mercy—mercy would only ruin one's life. That was one of Chiantai Wuji's principles.
---
In his mind, something had become clear. What he now saw was the true reality of the mortal village. Not the dusty streets, not the false smiles, not the songs of shepherd youths, nor the morning crow of roosters. Everything had been a vast and mysterious façade. A spell that transformed reality into illusion.
He knew: the hut he had struck was the "eye of the array"—the focal point, the node where the array's energy was concentrated. Destroying that node had lifted the deception and revealed the truth.
For the past two days, Wuji had observed the villagers and the village atmosphere with sharp attention. Even on the first day, certain signs had caught his notice: excessive silence, unusual repetitions, faces eerily similar, and a strange scent in the air... But he hadn't rushed. He had waited, watched, and slowly pieced the evidence together.
Until today, when he was certain: the village wasn't real.
Now, with the veil of illusion gone, he could confirm he had been right.
Chiantai Wuji couldn't suppress the quiet sigh that escaped his lips. Illusion arrays were truly troublesome—and at times terrifying. Had anyone else stood in his place, they might have been devoured by that illusion.
…
Chiantai Wuji stood among the bones. Calm and unmoving, like a shadow in the heart of darkness. A moment passed before he noticed something—Chu Li Meng was no longer there.
No sound, no trace, not even a footprint.
For a fleeting moment, his mind returned to the young man who had spoken to him over the past two days, guided him, even tried to dissuade him from cultivating at times. But now that the array was gone, so was he—along with the rest of the illusions.
Chiantai Wuji found this natural.
It wasn't surprising. Chu Li Meng had also been a part of that vast illusion. Perhaps more complex and human than the others—sometimes his voice sounded more genuine, or his eyes flickered with doubt—but it was all deception. The genius behind this array had managed to weave feeling into illusion. But in the end, it was illusion. And illusion is falsehood.
Chiantai Wuji lowered his head, looked at the bones beneath his feet, then stepped forward.
He did not retreat.
His path was forward. In his mind, a primal, rooted instinct stirred: somewhere in this land of the dead, something valuable was hidden. Perhaps a secret… or knowledge… or an ancient legacy.
He never passed up a chance to grow stronger. He believed that opportunity lived at the heart of danger. A coward might live longer—but not necessarily gain power.
He advanced, step by step.
With each step, the crunching of bones grew louder beneath his feet. Dry, brittle bones that had accumulated here over millennia. A haunting silence ruled the land, broken only by the sound of Wuji's steps shattering bone, the occasional thunder in the sky, or the searing wind that pierced to the marrow.
The air grew heavier. The death qi—a gray, lethal energy—thickened in the air. It seeped from every bone. Like a gray mist, it hovered in the space, and the farther Chiantai Wuji went, the darker and denser it became.
He stopped and murmured:
"Of course... so many bones, so much death… countless years passed… death qi had to accumulate. Wherever there is death, death qi follows… and here, death rises from the earth."
Yet unlike many cultivators, Chiantai Wuji was unharmed by this environment. Within him, the Yang Martial Intent burned—a warm, pure, anti-death force. A light that pierced the darkness. He had awakened it days ago in a small cave in the Forest of Falling Stars. Now, that same intent was active within him, like a sacred flame that didn't burn in the mist of the dead, but repelled it.
Chiantai Wuji couldn't help but reflect:
"This Yang Martial Intent truly proves its worth. If not for it five days ago, I would've struggled against those two assassins. And now today..."
…
The death qi came for him—but could not enter. It simply couldn't. For something inside Chiantai Wuji refused to make peace with death.
With calm, resolute steps, he walked forward until he stopped again. Suddenly, his gaze fell on something in the distance. Amid the hills of bone, a partially buried structure was visible. Perhaps the ruins of a temple… a tower… or a military fortress.
At that moment, his mind lit up.
This place… had once been a battlefield. No—more than that.
Wuji whispered:
"Maybe… more than a thousand years ago?"
A memory sparked—of a book, years ago, in a vast library, while researching ancient texts. He had once stumbled upon a book that spoke of a colossal war on the Celestial Dome Continent. A war that lasted for years and was known in legend as "The War of Emperors." A conflict that involved not just humans, but the heavens and the earth themselves.
At the time, the tale had seemed nothing more than myth. After all, he'd had no solid information—just a few lines of obscure text. But now… now that he saw bones larger than any human, shattered swords, and decayed armor among the hills…
He could no longer dismiss it.
Perhaps this was one of those battlefields. Perhaps the truth was far closer than he had ever imagined.