The gray-white mist of the Wildlands suddenly churned violently, and the surrounding bones and petrified remnants of gigantic beasts trembled in the storm. The air felt as if its moisture had been drained, leaving only a cold, piercing void. Ye Chenyu, Liyue Ying, Xuan Ye, and Xing Lan stood at the center of the wasteland, only to find the landscape around them beginning to warp—the horizon tearing asunder, countless gray-black vortices surging from the depths of the void.
"This… is the Ruin?" Xuan Ye murmured, his voice swallowed by the Wildlands, as if even air could not carry it. The scene before him sent chills through his heart: bones, sand, shadows of the setting sun, remnants of all monsters encountered in the wasteland—everything had converged into a spinning maelstrom, as if drawing the very meaning of existence into its whirl.
Ye Chenyu felt his heart seize violently. He could hear the low whispers of cracking bones, calling for them to be swallowed, as though the entire world were silently laughing, awaiting all things to return to nothingness. Along the edges of the gray-white mist flickered a strange red light, like a ghostly glow of blood mixed with void, reflecting in each of their eyes and nearly driving them mad.
Instinctively, the four activated their rune arrays and fragments, attempting to resist the whirlpool's encroachment—but the power of the Ruin far exceeded their imagination. Each time a formation lit up, the vortex seemed provoked, its black tendrils reaching outward, pulling everything in the wasteland toward it. Bones, sand, rubble—even the lingering phantoms of the wasteland—were drawn into its rotation, letting out wails like a thousand voices crying.
Xing Lan's bloodline resonated with the Wildlands' waters. She could sense the hidden torrents within the vortex, as if the entire wasteland were being controlled by an ancient will. Trembling, she whispered to the others: "Don't be consumed by the illusions… it is guiding us to face the very edge of the Wildlands."
Ye Chenyu scanned the surroundings, suddenly detecting a familiar tremor: the vortex of the Ruin was not merely devouring the wasteland—it seemed to be responding to his own existence. His bloodline, his runes, and the deep order of the Wildlands resonated faintly. This resonance was both thrilling and terrifying—he seemed both part of the Ruin and scrutinized by it, every breath becoming heavy and weak.
Liyue Ying furrowed her brow, sensing the hidden connection between Ye Chenyu and the Ruin. Her expression was icy and sharp. "You… may be the key unnoticed within this wasteland." Her words fell like ice into the depths of the Wildlands, causing Ye Chenyu's heart to tighten. He could not respond, for the vortex's power left them nearly immobile.
Within the wasteland, the spectral remnants of Emperor Jiang, Taowu, Qiongqi, the Nine Infants, and Wuzhiqi—all appeared and were drawn into the vortex, turning into gray-black fragments, emitting low, pained wails. The power at the vortex's center was like a bottomless abyss, twisting time and space. The four's sense of existence was continuously compressed, their minds teetering on the brink of collapse.
Xuan Ye swung his rune arrays, but each strike was swallowed by the black tendrils of the vortex. The light of his runes flowed backward, reflecting a deathly void. Ye Chenyu tried to concentrate his will, attempting to resonate with the Ruin through his bloodline, but the force was too vast, too primordial—he was nearly consumed, becoming part of the vortex itself.
Xing Lan screamed as the Wildlands' waters swirled around her, her eyes glowing blood-red, as if the next moment would see her devoured into nothingness. Liyue Ying reached for her, but felt her own bloodline being devoured by the vortex. Her icy gaze now burned with unprecedented determination: "We cannot be swallowed!"
Suddenly, Ye Chenyu realized that the Ruin was not ordinary void; it was the Wildlands' ultimate order, the deepest trial and terminus of the Spirit Realm. All matter, time, space, and even life itself were being woven into an invisible net, and he might be the key node of this web.
The four were pressed to the limits by the vortex's pull. Gray-black winds tore up bones, sand, and fragments of the wasteland. At the vortex's core, it seemed a faceless deity gazed down, emitting a low, silent call. Each breath felt drained; their bodies lost weight, leaving only endless void and abyssal fear.
Clenching his teeth, Ye Chenyu summoned every last ounce of strength, gathering his bloodline, runes, and memories into a beam of existence-light. Xuan Ye, Liyue Ying, and Xing Lan likewise focused their powers. The four wills converged deep in the Wildlands, forming a fragile barrier that blocked the Ruin's direct consumption.
The center of the Ruin's vortex flickered slightly; the gray-black tendrils paused temporarily. Yet that profound, primordial, faceless, indifferent gaze still lingered in the air. The four clung to each other, feeling the weight of one another's existence, barely holding their ground at the edge of the Wildlands.
Ye Chenyu closed his eyes. The silent whispers from the depths of the Ruin still echoed in his ears. He understood: the end of the Wildlands was not the conclusion, but a deeper trial—the boundary between nothingness and the meaning of existence. Their survival relied entirely on their wills and mutual resonance, while the true power of the Ruin had yet to reveal itself.
In the gray-black wasteland, the vortex slowly spun, the four figures drifting like lone vessels in infinite void. Despair, fear, and the sense of nothingness intertwined, forming a pressure impossible to escape.