An illusion—and an exceptionally deep one at that.
One had to know that Lin Fan's Primordial Spirit had long since reached the consummate pinnacle, tempered through countless brushes with life and death until his mind was as unyielding as rock. Unless he encountered some utterly terrifying power beyond all comprehension, who in this world could make him fall into an illusion in an instant without even realizing it?
Worthy indeed of the Ten Thousand Dragons Nest.
It seemed the contingencies the ancient dragon clan had left behind here were far more astonishing than he had imagined.
Lin Fan stood where he was. Though his consciousness was trapped within the illusion, a sliver of clarity still flickered in the depths of his heart like a candle flame.
He raised his eyes toward the front. That mountain gate was unexpectedly familiar.
The weathered stone steps, the broken plaque, even the crack across the lintel—all of it perfectly replicated a scene buried deep in his memories. An eerie aura seeped out from within the mountain gate, faint yet ever-present, like an invisible hand gently plucking at his mind.
Lin Fan narrowed his eyes. After pondering for a moment, he finally lifted a foot and walked toward the mountain gate.
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the empty illusion, every step as though it truly landed upon stone slabs. His heart was drawn tight with vigilance, yet his expression remained calm.
Suddenly, a figure slowly emerged from the thin mist beyond the mountain gate.
The figure was slender and hazy, like a reflection rising from the bottom of the water, gradually becoming clear bit by bit.
"You're back..."
The voice was soft, soft as a breeze brushing past his ear, yet it carried an indescribable power of bewitchment that seeped thread by thread