The blinding light still flickered. Chen Wuya's palm was pressed against the scroll, blood seeping out without stop. The wound seemed to have been caught by something, refusing to heal. His consciousness teetered on the brink of collapse, his ears filled with static, as though countless people were speaking at once.
He gritted his teeth and did not let go.
The Misavoidance Domain activated on its own, filtering out those chaotic voices bit by bit. He no longer tried to distinguish their contents, instead treating all the information as a rhythm. Just like listening to hawkers shouting in a marketplace as a child—the louder and more chaotic it became, the easier it was to seize the important points.
"You finally came." That voice rang out again.
This time, he heard it clearly.
It was neither a threat nor a warning, but a confirmation. Like someone who had waited a long time finally hearing a knock at the door.
He spoke, his voice hoarse. "I'm not here to take you."
After a pause, he added, "I'm here to understand you."
The instant the words fell, his palm turned hot. The silver-white patterns on the Heavenly Machine Scroll began to sink in, flowing along with his blood into his skin. His entire arm burned, but he did not move. He knew he could neither retreat nor be afraid now.
The scroll slowly merged into his palm, until only a silver mark remained, like a brand. It fell quiet, but he knew this was only the beginning.
A faint glow suddenly lit up in the center of the stone chamber.
The air rippled, and a phantom emerged from midair. Dressed in white with long hair, its features were blurred and its eyes closed. It stood there as tiny specks of light drifted around