Before the darkness following the collapse of the sixth trial had completely dissipated, subtle ripples suddenly appeared on the void beneath Qin Yu's feet that reflected the "darkness before birth," as if someone had gently plucked an invisible string from the depths of the sea.
The next instant, space itself was forcibly "layered," not torn apart, but like a page of a book being folded open, with two parallel barriers slowly unfolding before him.
The barrier on the left is in an extremely unstable state. It has no fixed shape, sometimes resembling a deep well, sometimes a doorless door, with its edges constantly collapsing and reforming, as if even the concept of an "entrance" has not yet been allowed to exist.
Deep within the barrier lay an unfocusable gray-white expanse; any attempt to penetrate it caused the vision to automatically lose focus, as if the ability to analyze anything had been forcibly erased. The writing appearing on the barrier's surface was unstable, its shapes constantly rewriting, disappearing, and rewriting again, finally settling briefly on a line of somber and indifferent inscription—
The Path of the Unknown: Nameless, without destination, without return. Those who enter gain unspeakable rewards; those who lose will never know.
The barrier on the right was entirely different. It was stable and clear, like a precisely cut-out gate, its edges adorned with orderly, deep purple patterns. Within these patterns, faint traces of light, logically closed, were visible—clearly a legitimate passage prepared for the "next step." Above it floated another line of text, each character distinct, like a pre-written destiny—
The Seventh Trial: Naming of Existence. Proceed step by step; there is still time to look back.
Two barriers stood silently side by side, one a recognized path, the other a "blank" that even description seemed forced. The Void Abyss Forbidden Domain was unusually quiet at this moment, even the low hum of conceptual remnants had disappeared, as if the entire space was waiting for his choice.
Qin Yu stood still, not taking a step immediately. His gaze slowly moved between the two barriers, finally settling on the unknown entrance that was constantly collapsing and reforming. The seventh level was right before him; as long as he stepped into the right barrier, everything would continue to proceed according to the predetermined trajectory.
The pace, difficulty, and rewards of the trial were all within the "permitted" range. He knew very well that it was a safer path.
But the left side is different. It's not that it's more difficult or more dangerous, but rather that it cannot be defined. Once missed, it will never come again; once given up, one will never know what lies within.
His mind was not filled with intense emotions; on the contrary, it was unusually clear.
"If I choose the seventh level, I might be able to complete the trial faster and obtain the Silent Origin Void Canon."
"But if that's the case, then the other path... will completely disappear from the realm of 'possibility'."
He knew very well that what truly made him stop was not greed, but a deeper intuition—after the sixth layer of self-reflection, he was no longer fixated on the "optimal solution." He no longer pursued only efficiency, success, and completion, but began to be wary of another kind of loss: the loss of those unnamed possibilities.
Qin Yu slowly exhaled, as if he had put all the weighing and balancing of things aside. He didn't look at the seventh layer of the barrier again, nor did he turn back to confirm whether the "correct path" was still there. He simply followed his intuition, took a step forward, and stepped into that gray and white expanse that was constantly collapsing and reforming.
The instant his toes touched the unknown barrier, all the text collapsed simultaneously. The barrier neither opened nor closed; it merely "moved aside" for a moment. The next instant, Qin Yu's figure was completely swallowed up, and even his aura, shadow, and presence seemed to be gently wiped away by an invisible hand.
The moment Qin Yu stepped into that unknown barrier, there was neither light nor sound.
It's not darkness itself, but the very concept of "darkness" that has lost its meaning here.
His consciousness seemed to be gently supported by an invisible hand, only to be released in the next instant.
There is no solid ground beneath one's feet, yet one can stand; there is no space around one, yet one can discern distance. Everything here is neither like heaven and earth, nor like emptiness, nor like any known realm.
It's as if this is a place abandoned after the great road has come to an end.
Qin Yu's mind was slightly shaken.
He immediately realized that this was not an extension of the Void Abyss Forbidden Domain, but rather some earlier, more ancient level of existence.
It was not opened up by anyone, nor created by anyone, but rather the residual space that naturally settles down when the "Tao" ceases to move forward.
Realm of Delusionless.
The name was not announced by any voice, yet it naturally appeared in his mind, as if he would know it as soon as he stepped into this place.
In the void ahead, a gray broken ring floated silently.
It is not like an object, but more like a "cause and effect" that has been forcibly severed. The ring is incomplete and the edges are jagged, as if it was once part of something whole, but was broken and abandoned over the years. There are no divine patterns or traces of the Dao on the broken ring, only a very faint gray glow, like the embers left behind from some end before the ages.
Qin Yu only glanced at it, but his mind was slightly shaken.
He vaguely sensed—
If one's own foundation is even slightly insufficient, simply getting close to it will erase the trace of one's existence from the ring, leaving not even the fact that one "once got close".
That was neither an attack nor a suppression.
Rather, it's not allowed.
Just as Qin Yu was on high alert, the Chaos Origin within his body stirred slightly, and the lingering resonance of the end resonated with it.
Two opposing forces, which should not have coexisted, converged at this moment with remarkable naturalness, like a key being inserted into a lock that had been waiting for it.
The broken ring gave a slight jolt.
There was no roar, no strange phenomena; only the surrounding space, which had been blurry, stagnant, and seemingly belonging to no era, began to flow slowly for the first time.
Qin Yu's pupils contracted slightly.
In that instant, he realized something that shook him to his core—
The underlying energy of this Realm of Delusionless resonated with a certain power he had sensed countless times before.
They are not similar, but rather branches from the same origin.
Almost instinctively, two names came to mind.
The Nameless Box. The Gate of Finality.
At that moment, Qin Yu didn't even consciously think about it.
He suddenly realized—
Jin Hanyan's connection to this road is not limited to this.
The two treasures she possessed were likely remnants left behind from a place like the "Realm of Delusionless," which led them to the present world. Perhaps, this place itself was a stage before their creation or after their final destination.
For the first time during the trial, Qin Yu's breathing paused slightly.
In any other matter, he could weigh the options, compromise, or choose a less risky path.
But at this moment, he had only one thought in his mind.
Since this path will eventually connect with her.
Then he must go all the way to the end.
Qin Yu took a step forward without hesitation.
When his figure truly stepped into the center of the gray broken ring, the entire Realm of Delusionless seemed to finally confirm something, and the surrounding blurry "undefined state" suddenly contracted.
In the distance, something seemed to have been truly awakened.
Qin Yu also clearly realized—
From this moment on, what he is experiencing will no longer be a "trial".
Rather, it is their qualification of existence that has been personally examined by the Great Dao.
As Qin Yu stepped into that unknown, desolate, broken ring, it was as if an unseen hand reached out from the emptiness of the "End of the Epoch" and gently touched his brow. In that instant, he didn't hear a sound...
Instead, it was the deep hum of an entire river of time being lifted upside down; the Void Abyss Forbidden Domain beneath his feet seemed to have been suddenly stripped of its "location," the obsidian-like ground and the pale mist layer shattering simultaneously into countless tiny mirror fragments. These fragments did not fall, but instead flew backward in some higher direction, as if summoned back by time itself.
The surrounding dark blue halo was compressed into a thin arc, beyond which lay an even deeper silence—not black, but an emptiness where "color" had lost its right to exist; and at the edge of this emptiness, suddenly, strands of fine, silvery-gray light pierced through, like countless extremely thin orbital lines drawn from the pulse of countless eras.
They all coiled around him, around his throat, heart, metacarpals, and spine, around the most indescribable root of his Fate Soul.
Qin Yu only had time to look up before he saw himself standing on a massive, desolate platform "without direction." The platform was formed by countless broken tree rings stacked upon each other, each ring resembling charred wood grain, yet light flowed within the texture—light that was not fire.
Rather, it is the lingering pain that has never cooled over thousands of years; in the distance, there is no sky, only the afterimage of a giant bell that stretches across the infinite hangs upside down. The bell is semi-transparent, and inside are sealed layers upon layers of cities, battlefields, the rise and fall of dynasties, and the collapse of galaxies. Each swing of the bell tongue is silent, yet it makes the light and image of the entire space feel as if it is being kneaded, stretched, flattened, and then shattered into dust by a giant hand.
At that moment, the first trial's "Temporal Belonging" didn't appear in words; it fell directly into the depths of Qin Yu's Fate Soul, as if someone had forged the question "Which era do you belong to?" into a cold nail, driving it into his very being. As the nail fell, countless time rifts suddenly cracked open around the desolate platform, and what surged forth from these rifts wasn't wind, but the very essence of "the era itself."
In some moments, golden-red flames blazed, the roars of millions echoing and the tremors of clashing swords and spears reverberating within; in others, the faint scent of ink wafted, carrying with it the oaths of ancient sects and the whispers of masters and disciples; and in still others, Emptiness.
Only waves of silence, like the tides, numbed even the most subtle thoughts in one's heart. Every breath exhaled from the gaps in time transformed into a "Shadow of an Era," which had no fixed face, yet all carried an intense, suffocating sense of belonging—like home, like one's native land, like a destiny that you cannot deny or refuse.
The first Shadow of an Era emerged from the golden-red flames of war, draped in a tattered battle banner, its surface marked with patterns Blood Immersion. As it raised its hand, the gravity of the entire space was twisted by its battle intent. Qin Yu felt as if struck by an invisible hammer, his heartbeat forcibly synchronized with the drumbeats of a charging army, as if the slightest thought of killing on his part would be enough to trigger its power.
They would be "claimed" by the Shadow of an Era and drawn into that war-torn age; the second Shadow of an Era emerged from the fragrance of ink and books, with thousands of tattered pages behind him like a sea, turning silently, each page bearing the words "Return," written like a call from Fate Soul, like a gentle bondage that makes one willingly kneel;
The third Shadow of an Era is the most bizarre. It rises from the Emptiness gap of time, with only a pale gray outline. The outline has no emotion, but carries an absolutely calm "sense of erasure". It does not say "you belong to me", but only tells Qin Yu with its existence: if you do not choose, you will be treated as an unclaimed thing by time and blown away like dust.
Qin Yu did not immediately draw his sword. He stood in the center of the desolate platform, letting the silver-gray chronological lines wrap around him tighter and tighter, until his fingertips went numb, until double images appeared in his vision: he saw himself standing in armor in a certain era, with mountains of corpses and seas of blood behind him; he saw himself writing at a desk in a certain era, the lamplight warm as if it could atone for his sins;
He saw himself walking alone at the edge of the starry sky in some era, with no one remembering his name. Those images were not illusions; they carried a real weight, a sense of "belonging" that made one want to reach out and grasp. And whenever Qin Yu's heart stirred slightly, even with just a moment's hesitation, those chronological lines would tighten abruptly.
It's like dragging him entirely into the Shadow of an Era —not just traversing it, but "archiving" it: your past, present, and future will all be rearranged into the shape allowed by that era. You will become a product of that era, you will live within the laws of that era, and you will also die at the end of that era.
He finally raised his right hand, Silent Origin Stainless Sword silently appeared in his palm. The cold light emanating from the sword wasn't dazzling, but rather like the clearest, most serene line, slightly correcting the distorted light and shadow around him. As soon as the sword's edge appeared, those Shadow of an Era paused for a moment, as if wary of something—not of the weapon itself.
Rather, it is the Silent Origin's pure, Stainless essence: it neither demands belonging to any era nor sacrifices itself to any. But in the next instant, the Shadow of an Era suddenly opens its arms...
The roar of a thousand troops charging seemed to explode from within a bell, and the weathered patterns of the entire desolate platform transformed into countless surging rivers of blood, winding around Qin Yu's ankles, attempting to drag him into the battlefield; the Shadow of an Era the Book and Ink Era simply waved its hand.
The countless fragments of pages transformed into countless dark blue chains of words, piercing through the void and wrapping around Qin Yu's wrists and eyes, trying to lock his gaze onto the words "Return"; but the gray, Emptiness Shadow of an Era was the most ruthless, silently pressing down lightly on Qin Yu's back.
Qin Yu felt a sudden chill run down his spine. He had a fleeting, extremely dangerous illusion—as if he were standing in a crevice that "no era acknowledges," as if he would be ground into dust by the torrent of time in the next instant.
Qin Yu closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he didn't argue about which era was more real, nor did he try to prove where he came from. Instead, he slowed his breathing to an extreme, so slow that the rise and fall of his chest resembled a still lake. He let the drumbeats of war sweep across his heart, let the call of books and ink sweep across his ears, and let the feeling of Emptiness and erasure sweep across his spine—sweeping away, but not grasping.
He began to walk slowly forward in the center of the desolate platform. With each step, the rings of time beneath his feet seemed to be smoothed by a deeper sense of desolation, the force of the blood river weakening slightly, and the sharpness of the chain of words dulling a little. But the Shadow of an Era would not allow him such composure. The War Era suddenly solidified into a giant blade made of countless broken weapons, cleaving down towards Qin Yu. As the blade struck, a burning rift was cleaved through space.
The rifts spewed forth the howls of countless souls and the rusty smell of the wind; the Ink Era simultaneously wrote the words "Return" into a massive imprint, like an ink-colored celestial monument falling from the sky, pressing down on Qin Yu's shoulders and knees; the Emptiness Era opened a gray-white void in front of him, the void like a bottomless mouth, ready to swallow him whole as he took a step.
Qin Yu finally drew his sword, but this strike wasn't to slay his enemy; it was to cut through the "temptation of belonging." The blade of the Silent Origin Stainless Sword lightly sliced through, not flesh and blood, but an extremely thin, silent line—a line that seemed to write an undeniable "severance" in the void.
The fiery cracks left by the falling war-torn blade were instantly silenced by the silent line, as if the very name of "burning" had been stripped away; the oppressive gravity of the inky celestial monument was cut open by the silent line, and within the opening, there was no light.
Yet there was a chilling quality that brought everything back to tranquility; the ink on the Heavenly Stele crumbled like the receding tide; even the gray, empty swallowing opening was forced to slightly contract by the lines of silence, as if even Emptiness dared not directly devour the "self" guarded by this sword.
But the price appeared immediately—those silver-gray chronological lines suddenly pierced deep into Qin Yu's Fate Soul like barbs, as if trying to nail him into a certain era; the scene before his eyes shattered into countless fragments of "me": him roaring back on the battlefield, him looking up with gentle eyes at his desk, him standing silently like a monument at the end of the starry sky.
Each "he" reached out, grabbing Qin Yu's wrist, Qin Yu throat, and the deepest, most vulnerable part of Qin Yu heart—the desire for recognition. Qin Yu's legs went weak, and the rings of time on the desolate platform suddenly began to reverse.
His body felt as if it were being pulled back by a giant, invisible hand, pulling back the innocence of childhood, the sharpness of youth, and the blood and fire he no longer wanted to look back on; his fingers suddenly became unfamiliar, as if they were not his own hands holding a sword, and he even felt that he was being swapped—swapped into a more "suitable" version of a certain era.
At this most dangerous moment, Qin Yu suddenly stopped resisting. He no longer used his will to grasp "who I am." Instead, he slowly lowered the Silent Origin Stainless Sword, letting the tip touch the desolate platform, touching the center of the inverted rings of time.
The instant the sword tip touched the ground, there was no roar, no burst of light, only a faint ripple of solitude spreading silently. The ripple swept across the flames of war, its roars seemingly submerged; it swept across the ink and brush, the call of the books seemingly scattered by the wind; it swept across the Emptiness, the Emptiness's devouring force seemingly halted. Qin Yu raised his head, his eyes as calm as an ancient well.
He makes no oath to any era, nor does he ask any age for a place to belong. He simply pulls the nail out of his heart and then lets go of the word "belonging," along with the temptations and fears it brings—not forgetting, but no longer taking it as the root of his self.
So he took a step forward, stepping directly into the gray-white void. The void, which should have swallowed everything, seemed to be devoured by some ancient will the instant he entered. The grayness quickly faded, revealing the true scene behind the void—a darkness before birth, pure, silent, and boundless, like the final image reflected in all the mirrors at the end of the sixth level; that darkness did not reject him.
Instead, it seemed like an acknowledgment of his choice: you don't have to belong to any era, because an era is merely dust beneath your feet; you pass through it, or you don't, and it doesn't diminish who you are. The Shadow of an Era let out a resentful growl in the distance.
The sea of tattered pages from the Book of Ink Era also tumbled and tried to entwine us again, but as soon as darkness enveloped us, their outlines collapsed one by one, like bubbles after the tide receded; the gray shadow of the Emptiness Era completely lost its form in the darkness, as if it finally understood: this person is not afraid of being erased, because he no longer regards "being recognized" as proof of existence.
One by one, the silver-gray chronological lines detached from Qin Yu's body, retreating back into the inverted giant bell. The cities and battlefields sealed inside the bell seemed to suddenly lose their pull, turning into a shower of fine, sand-like ashes, falling silently and dissipating without a sound. The rings of time on the desolate platform stopped turning backward, instead settling down again beneath Qin Yu's feet. Within the cracks of the rings, a line of extremely faint, ancient characters emerged, as if drawn by time itself with its fingertips:
--Only by transcending one era can one traverse ten thousand. Qin Yu at the boundary between darkness and desolation, the Silent Origin Stainless Sword still in his hand, but it was no longer a weapon of slaughter, but rather a calm anchor, anchoring his thoughts at this moment; and behind him, the fragments of "me" that had once reached out to grab him also faded away one by one. Before fading away, they had no resentment, but rather seemed to have finally returned the burden to the true body.
As the last Shadow of an Era crumbled completely, a low, cold echo of Silent Origin Caihuang resounded from the depths of the void, like an acknowledgment from the dust of ages past, or simply a statement of fact: The first hurdle has been overcome. At the same time...
The darkness before Qin Yu's eyes slowly cracked open, revealing a deeper, dark blue aura, as if another trial was awakening in a more cruel way. Qin Yu stood there for only a moment, gently exhaled as if exhaling the weight of an entire era, and then lifted his foot to walk towards the crack.