Bubble Illusions Manifesting Reality Tribulation
Qin Yu raised his hand, his causal observation not yet fully unfolded, only a faint wisp of causal thread overflowing from the edge of his sea of consciousness, attempting to touch the "destination attribute" of the chaotic black hole embedded in the mountain wall. However, in the instant before this thought could take shape, space seemed to be gently "corrected" by some higher rule. There was no tearing, no tremor, and not even any perceptible force intervening, yet his vision was flattened in an instant—not darkness, nor light, but a continuity that had been completely removed, as if the small segment of the world he stood on had been cut out of the narrative.
The next instant, his feet Gloomy Mist Soul-Entangling Swamp churned in the distance. He had been "returned" to the forbidden zone intact, as if the chaotic black hole was declaring in the coldest, most disdainful way: This path is not open to you. Qin Yu did not turn back, nor did he try to deduce anything further. The echo of cause and effect in his heart quickly subsided, as if it had never risen. The Silent Origin Stainless Sword hung at his side. He simply continued forward in the predetermined direction, his steps steady and restrained.
The mist swirled around his ankles, stretching the kilometer-long distance to an eerie length. His vision was constantly compressed into a narrow, enclosed space, as if space itself deliberately avoided the concepts of "distance." The instant he took his thousandth step, without warning, the world suddenly became "excessively clean." The mist didn't dissipate, but it lost its damp, cold, and putrid odor; the air ceased to move.
The mud beneath his feet seemed to have reverted to its state before it was polluted, neither sticky nor heavy. When Qin Yu's boots landed, there was no splashing of water, not even a footprint, as if he had not truly stepped on anything. The light began to become uniform, without direction or shadow, like a carefully polished white jade film, smoothing out everything—high and low, near and far, inside and outside. Even his own outline became blurred in this excessively pure light, as if if he remained still for just a moment longer, he would be assimilated into the background.
He was walking, yet he couldn't perceive the meaning of "moving forward"; he was breathing, yet he couldn't feel the breath entering and leaving; even his heartbeat was stretched out and distanced, as if echoing across a vast, Stainless void. At that moment, Qin Yu suddenly understood—it wasn't that he had stumbled into some kind of formation, but rather that he had been "accepted" into a cage that had long existed but never revealed itself.
There are no array flags, no array eyes, and no structure that can be broken, because the entire Stainless Realm itself is the unfolded form of the array. The Light of Stainlessness permeates every inch of space silently. It does not oppress, erode, or judge; it simply exists quietly. It is precisely this "absolute purity" that makes everything with attachment and form appear particularly glaring.
Qin Yu clearly sensed that an unavoidable "examination" was taking place—not from the outside world, but naturally generated from the space itself, from the flow of this Light of Stainlessness. It did not care about his cultivation level or the strength of his power, but was only waiting for one thing: waiting for the faintest fluctuation in the depths of his heart: "What am I here for?" "What do I want?" "What am I going to become?"
In that instant, the world seemed to hold its breath. In the still, undisturbed light, the array had already taken shape, yet it seemed as if it had never been activated; there were no unusual signs, no dangers, but Qin Yu knew that as long as even a trace of his pursuit of the Dao, a single thought of self, or even the thought of "I must remain Stainless" arose in his heart, it would become the only key to triggering the array's restrictions.
This is neither a killing formation nor a trapping formation, but a haven named for tranquility. Once someone is identified as having "form," they will be gently and completely smoothed out by this Light of Stainlessness, returning to silence, as if they had never stepped into the Gloomy Mist Soul-Entangling Swamp, nor had they ever reached this place on this path.
The Light of Stainlessness, which had been spread evenly between heaven and earth like a flawless white silk, suddenly "twisted" the moment Qin Yu stopped. It wasn't a bending of light, but rather as if the entire expanse of purity gently pulled its boundaries inward. All lines and layers in the space were instantly compressed into a single texture. Then, the first grain of "dust"—as fine as ash yet as bright as stardust—seeped from the jade-like surface. It floated silently, followed by a second, a third, and countless others appearing simultaneously.
The entire Stainless Realm seemed to be thrown into an invisible storm. Dust particles swirled, coalesced, and swelled, condensing into translucent bubbles. Faint gray lines flowed on the surface of the bubbles, like stains pressed under the light. Each bubble swelled with a very soft "pop--", a sound that seemed to come from a string pierced deep within the sea of consciousness, sending chills down one's spine.
Bubbles instantly filled Qin Yu's surroundings, varying in size, some like fingertips, some like wheels, and some like palaces suspended in mid-air. They were not illusory; real water vapor and temperature condensed on the bubble walls, and light and shadow refracted into fine rainbows. One could even smell the scent from "memory"—rust, blood, grass, old book pages, familiar fragrance, and unfamiliar cold.
The next instant, the figures and scenes within the bubble simultaneously "revealed their true form," as if the entire perspective had been pulled closer, the image breaking through the bubble's refraction and landing directly in Qin Yu's eyes: an old friend stood in the light, the folds of his robes so clear that the fibers were visible, and in the instant he looked up, his pupils reflected the regret Qin Yu had once been most unwilling to admit; a supreme treasure hung beneath the Stainless light curtain, its patterns breathing like a living thing, the aura it emitted perfectly matching the briefest, most secret yearning in his heart; an enemy stepped out of the bubble, his footsteps silent, yet causing extremely fine cracks to appear on the surrounding pristine light surface.
It was as if that hatred could pierce even the Stainless; further away, the largest bubble slowly rotated, inside which was Qin Yu, who had "attained the Dao of Stainless"—cloaked in a clear light, with an indifferent expression, like a flawless version of himself, stretching out his hand, palm upward, as if as long as Qin Yu took one step, he could place the "end" directly into his hands. The bubbles all gathered together, forming a circle like a tide, clearly without any killing intent, yet sharper than any killing intent, because every glance they cast at Qin Yu was forcing him to admit a fact.
These are not illusions; they are the "filth" on his own body being stripped away by the Light of Stainlessness, solidifying into a real form and sound. It is warm to the touch, audible to the voice, and even his breathing is in sync with reality. As long as the slightest wavering arises in his heart—greed, hatred, attachment, or even the determination to "cut them off"—that instantaneous thought will be like a drop of ink falling into clear water, growing heavier with each stroke. The bubble will become more real, closer, and harder to shake off, ultimately dragging his entire being into the "nourishment" position of this formation.
Qin Yu stood rooted to the spot, the Silent Origin Stainless Sword unraised, its blade devoid of any light. Even his gaze remained unsharpened—for he knew better than anyone that the most deadly thing here wasn't the illusion itself, but his own "reaction" to it. He watched as the lips of his old friend moved slightly, hearing a cry that seemed to tear his chest apart; he watched the radiant patterns of the treasure surge like a tide, alluring as a path home.
He watched as the enemy's smile slowly crept onto his lips, hatred churning in his blood, almost bursting from his throat; he looked at the outstretched hand of his "Stainless self," as if it could end all his struggles in the next second. But in that instant when all of this was closing in, Qin Yu's breath suddenly stopped for a moment, not out of tension, but because he deliberately suppressed all the urge to "respond" to the deepest part of his being. He allowed his mind to completely calm down on the surface of the Stainless light, not even allowing the words "I am breaking through" to take shape in his mind, as if his whole being had become a stone without any patterns.
He let the tide crash against him, yet not a ripple appeared. Then, he neither drew his sword to slay the bubble, nor forcibly suppressed it with his supernatural powers—that would immediately turn "confrontation" into a new obsession—he made only a subtle, cold, and clean movement: raising his left hand, his fingertips lightly touching the void, the supernatural power "Three Forms of Fate Construction Cause and Effect Deconstruction: Causal Deconstruction" silently unfolding, but it didn't point to the bubble itself, but directly to the causal chain of "bubble generation"—the Light of Stainlessness distorted, the obsession was extracted, dust became shadow, and the shadow gained real form—
The chain, like a string of transparent silver threads, was outlined under his fingertips. The next moment, the Cause and Effect Deconstruction was not a brutal tearing apart, but rather like surgery, dismantling "necessity" into countless fragments that no longer interlocked: Must you be moved by the deceased? No; must you desire the most precious treasure? No; must you hate your enemies? No; must you yearn for enlightenment? No.
Every "don't need to" is not a declaration, but a silent nail falling, dismantling the gears of the chain one by one, causing the underlying logic of "bubbles nourished by your filth" to lose its driving force. In an instant, the bubbles still exist, but it's as if their heartbeat has been removed. Their bubble walls no longer swell, the gray lines on the surface begin to lose their flow, the sounds within the bubbles are pulled away into distant echoes, the image is like film that has become damp, the colors have faded, and the sense of reality is peeled away from the "skin".
But the formation was not willing to give up. It immediately increased the pressure, and the bubble of "Stainless self" suddenly took a step forward. The entire Stainless light surface was as close to Qin Yu's eyes as a mirror, forcing him to agree or disagree with any position within that "perfection". A trace of coldness finally flashed in Qin Yu's eyes, but he was still not angry. He suddenly raised the Silent Origin Stainless Sword. The sword was still without sharpness, but a very faint "double image" appeared in the Stainless light, as if the same sword had fallen at multiple possible angles at the same time.
He drew a very short arc in the air with the tip of his sword, neither fast nor slow, as if cutting an invisible thread—it wasn't cutting the bubble, but cutting the "reflection": the bubble was so realistic because it projected Qin Yu's Fate Soul as fuel for the shadow. He used the sword's "severing the soul-structured reflection" to break this reflection channel. Where the sword arc passed, the iridescent light on the surface of the bubble peeled off like rubbed paint, turning into a colorless mist. Before the mist could dissipate, it was swallowed by the Light of Stainlessness, leaving not a speck of dust.
The old friend's outstretched hand froze in mid-air, the temperature of his fingertips suddenly dropping, like a wax figure having its heat source removed; the precious artifact's patterns lost their breath, its luster rapidly dimming, then with a soft "pop," the entire bubble, like a punctured transparent membrane, collapsed into a drop of grayish-white water; the enemy's smile had not yet fully formed when his face, like shattered glass, developed fine cracks, the cracks containing no flesh or blood, only the deconstructed emptiness.
As for the "Stainless Qin Yu," his outstretched palm suddenly began to become transparent from the palm lines, as if the main body of the person in the picture had been cut off, leaving only an empty shell. Then the entire figure was gently smoothed out by the Light of Stainlessness, and even "perfection" itself lost its foothold.
The ephemeral tide finally receded; not killed, but "starved to death." The Light of Stainlessness returned to a flawless white silk, and the air regained a faint sense of movement. Qin Yu finally left a shallow imprint beneath his feet, as if the world had reaffirmed his existence.
He lowered his sword, but a faint gray mark remained on his robe, as thin as a birthmark, feeling like "nothing" to the touch. It was the only signature left on him by the Bubble Illusions Manifesting Reality Tribulation —a reminder: the danger here is not swords, but that trace of "necessity" in your heart. Qin Yu slowly exhaled, his gaze passing over the unseen deeper corridors in the depths of the Stainless light ahead, knowing that the next trial would only be colder, quieter, and more like peeling a person away from their "self."