The white paper realm was eerily quiet. Nothingness slowly approached from all directions, like a gaping maw. All the remaining cultivators stood on that boundless expanse of white, their breathing extremely low. No one dared to forcefully blast open the heavens and earth like the five who had done before. The bloody price still lingered deep in everyone's eyes; there were no remains, no blood mist.
Only the chill of complete annihilation echoed repeatedly deep within his Fate Soul. At this moment, Qin Yu slowly raised his eyes. His calm figure was reflected in the white ground beneath his feet. His primordial Fate Soul sank inch by inch into the most stable core. Silent light spread out from the depths of his sea of consciousness, like an ancient abyss opening its eyes in the darkness.
The next instant, he raised his hand, his five fingers slightly spread, and the void in front of his palm slowly lit up. A mark of intertwined dark gold and silver formed out of thin air. As soon as the mark appeared, the surrounding plain white paper began to tremble, and visible ripples spread out from his feet, as if the entire white paper had been awakened by the mark.
Immediately, Qin Yu lightly pressed his palm down, and the Fate Cause Sealing Mirror - Logic Abyss Core within the Heavenly Cause Judgment Sequence - Six Severances Seal suddenly unfolded. The space in front of him cracked inch by inch into countless mirrors. The mirrors did not reflect human figures, but only the devouring and assimilation lurking deep within the white paper. The darkness that slowly pressed in from the void was infinitely decomposed in the mirrors, breaking into countless fine lines and nodes.
The trajectory of birth and death, the direction of devouring, and the point of assimilation were all instantly nailed to the surface of the mirror. In the next instant, the mirror core spun, and cold, profound starlight spread out beneath Qin Yu's feet with a thunderous roar. A stable area several feet in diameter was forcibly pressed into the center of the white paper, like the foundation of a world that was not yet completed but had already truly been born, with nothingness rushing towards it from the edges.
The object crashed into the mirror core's seal, instantly exploding into a shower of silent light fragments. Layers of darkness peeled away, as if torn apart from the root by an invisible giant hand. Qin Yu's gaze remained unmoved as he lowered his other hand, and the Master Book Seal Severance Naming Reconstruction —Naming—unfurled. An ancient star book slowly turned its pages behind him, and with each page turned, a layer of pure white within the paper world sank further.
The previously Emptiness area began to show faint patterns of order. These patterns emerged from beneath his feet and extended outwards, like the skeleton of a world awakening on a blank sheet of paper. The first pattern transformed into the ridge of a mountain range, the second into the flow of a river, and the third into the center of gravity where space could be anchored. The entire process was seamless, as if someone had picked up a brush and written the first draft of creation on a blank canvas.
The void surged from all sides, causing a frenzied tremor. A black tide churned, rolling in like a tsunami along the edge of the white paper. Qin Yu raised his hand and pressed down again. The Orbital Collapse Lock - Chain Annihilation crashed down, and dark gold chains that Does Not Exist in the sky hung down one by one. A huge Fate Ring slowly formed above his head, and the chains shot out in all directions.
It pierced directly into the depths of the encroaching Void Tide, causing the darkness to twist violently and collapse in large swathes, as if the entire Devouring Sea had been forcibly torn apart from its continuous skeleton from within. Light and shadow swirled, the paper world trembled, Qin Yu in the center, his robes billowing wildly in the raging energy flow.
The star book behind him turned its pages, the Fate Ring above his head spun, and the stable world beneath his feet continued to expand. For the first time, a mark that truly belonged to him appeared on the blank white paper. That mark was not a symbol, nor a word, but a nascent form of a universe that had been laid out, capable of bearing, of remaining, and of preventing his Fate Soul from falling into assimilation.
Upon witnessing this scene, some of the other cultivators finally gritted their teeth and steadied themselves, each seeking their own path. One cultivator at the Realm Breaking Realm sat cross-legged, slowly separating his palms. His Dao Foundation transformed into blazing flames that shot upwards from his spine. The flames swirled on the white paper, first forming a crimson wheel, and then hundreds of fire patterns emerged along the wheel.
The fiery patterns crisscrossed and swirled on the white surface, like lava sketching the first ley line map in the cold universe. As the void surged in, he suddenly let out a low shout, the fire wheel expanded, and crimson-gold flames exploded on the spot, turning the entire white paper into a raging inferno. Darkness engulfed the inferno, and countless sparks rose into the air, like countless shooting stars rising in the night sky. Finally, a small fiery domain was firmly established beneath the man's feet.
On the other side, a female cultivator raised her hand to her brow, and the light of her Fate Soul poured out from her forehead, transforming into countless blue and white light threads that landed on the white paper. The light threads grew rapidly like vines, and in the blink of an eye, they intertwined to form a semi-transparent spiritual wood framework, with branches and leaves growing horizontally and roots crisscrossing. Those roots penetrated deep into the white paper, firmly grasping the only remaining support, and the void that attacked from the edge repeatedly collided with the branches and leaves.
The entire spirit wood frame trembled violently, its leaves shattering and regenerating in patches, blue and white light swirling across the sky. Her face was deathly pale, blood trickling from the corner of her lips, yet her hands clung tightly to the paper frame, finally securing her footing. Others chose to open the boundary with their swords.
A long sword rose into the air, its blade gleaming with a chilling light. The cultivator brought the sword down, and a hundred-foot-long sword mark split open in the center of the white paper. Frost surged from within the mark, and ice crystals spread wildly along the paper's surface, instantly condensing into a frozen barrier on the pristine white surface. The void rushed to the edge of the ice layer, crashing into it and creating a shower of shattered light. The entire icy region trembled, constantly cracking and healing itself.
The cultivator stood in the center of the icy domain, his flesh cracked by the cold, yet he withstood the first wave of erosion. Others chose to use their bodies as pillars, their feet firmly planted on the white paper, their spines like spears, their Fate Soul exploding behind them into a gigantic phantom of an ancient bell. The bell's tolling echoed repeatedly, causing concentric ripples to spread throughout the entire paper realm.
With each ripple that expanded outwards, the surrounding white surface solidified a little more, and the darkness retreated an inch. The bell tolled nine times, and finally, a stable area, as narrow as a city wall, solidified around him, truly standing firm.
Of course, some people succumbed during this process. Nothingness seeped up from beneath their feet, first engulfing their shoes, then their calves. The light within their bodies dissipated bit by bit through the gaps in their flesh, and the light in their eyes quickly went out.
In terror and despair, the person was silently erased by a blank sheet of paper, leaving not even a trace of breath. It was as if a cold hand was constantly filtering through the entire space, keeping those who could establish a world and destroying those who could not.
Time loses its conventional meaning here; only repeated erosion and repeated support propel the cycle forward. Vast expanses of blank paper are illuminated by different Dao foundations: fire domains, ice domains, spirit wood frameworks, bell walls, sword marks, light arrays, star charts—various small rudiments of the universe painstakingly take shape in this Emptiness land.
Under the oppressive weight of nothingness, it continued to shrink, compact, and solidify. Qin Yu at the forefront; his world's foundation was the quietest, yet also the deepest. The mirror core spun, the star book turned its pages, and the Fate Ring hummed softly. The area he had established was terrifyingly stable amidst the storm.
Like a nail truly driven into the Primordial Paper Realm, no matter how the void from all directions eroded it, it could not be uprooted. Finally, the entire pure white expanse slowly ceased its tremors, the darkness at the edges retreated, and fifteen truly unerased squares remained in the center of the paper world. The fifteen surviving cultivators stood upon the nascent forms of their respective creations.
Everyone was pale, their breathing erratic, and their Fate Soul nearly depleted, yet they managed to stand firm. The first trial had come to an end, while all the other failures had been erased from this blank sheet of paper forever, as if they had never existed.
On the white paper, fifteen universes stood suspended, with nothingness churning around them, like layers of silent black tides probing back and forth along the boundary, yet unable to penetrate even half an inch further. The air was still thin, and the tremors of the Fate Soul had not yet completely subsided; everything was stuck on the edge of just stabilizing.
A female cultivator at the Mystic Void Realm · Middle Stage stood within the spiritual wood framework she had created. The branches and leaves were still trembling slightly, and the blue and white light threads were slowly gathering. She looked up at the quietest area in front of her, her gaze falling on Qin Yu, and her pupils narrowed slightly.
"This cultivator at the Realm Breaking Realm · Supreme..." Her voice was low, as if afraid of disturbing something. "... to be so composed."
Her gaze remained fixed on Qin Yu standing in the center of his own small world. There were no bursts of intense light or surging energy around him, only a deep and stable structure breathing slowly, like a core truly embedded deep within a blank sheet of paper. All emptiness would automatically slide away when it approached that area, not even daring to touch it.
The female cultivator paused slightly. "He even suppressed the fluctuations of his energy expenditure..." A flicker of shock crossed her eyes, but she remained silent.
The white paper suddenly rippled, not from vibration, but from the entire space being lifted up. The pure white began to flow, and a wisp of grayish-white air appeared from afar.
One wisp, ten wisps, a thousand wisps—the fine threads of air spread across the paper like mist, or like ink marks of the Ultimate, unfolding silently and intertwining with the ethereal edges. Black and white begin to permeate each other, blurring the boundaries of the entire space.
Someone took a half step back, their breath tightening. The energy wisp wasn't attacking, but it was getting closer, inch by inch, touching every corner of the universe.
Suddenly, a corner of an area collapsed.
That was a boundary layer that a cultivator had just stabilized. A small crack appeared at the edge, and grayish-white wisps of energy drilled into it. In the next instant, the entire boundary layer began to soften like a piece of paper that had been soaked in water, and its structure collapsed rapidly.
As the wisps of air condensed, a phantom image appeared, and a figure "stood" out from the white paper—a semi-transparent, pure white figure.
The robes billowed without wind, their surface constantly flowing with chaotic patterns, like an unfinished world repeatedly being generated and annihilated upon them. In his hand, a jet-black ink brush slowly lowered, a single drop of ink still hanging from its tip.
The drop of ink didn't fall, but it instantly dimmed the brightness of the entire space; it stood there without emitting any energy.
Without any overwhelming pressure, everyone's Fate Soul tightened simultaneously. The Primordial Paper Spirit - Chaos Ink Master, without looking at anyone, "knew" all the unstable places.
The next instant, the ink brush moved lightly, its tip tracing a path through the void. There was no trace, only a result: the area where the cultivator whose realm had collapsed was directly "erased."
It wasn't a collapse or an explosion; the entire universe, along with him, vanished in an instant, as if wiped off a piece of paper by an invisible hand, leaving the white surface completely clean.
Everyone around froze, their breath catching in their throats for a moment. The wisps of air began to gather, and more afterimages appeared—one, two, ten.
On the entire blank sheet of paper, its shadow is taking shape everywhere, as if this world is spontaneously coalescing into the hand that holds the pen.
One cultivator, unwilling to accept defeat, roared in anger, unleashing his soul power. He directly reinforced his own universe, layering light upon layer to form dozens of protective barriers.
The phantom approached the ink brush and made a horizontal stroke, causing all the layers of protection to darken simultaneously. With the second stroke, all the layers of light vanished at the same time.
With the third stroke, he vanished completely, leaving no trace and making no sound.
On the other side, a cultivator took the initiative, his sword flashing skyward, attempting to sever the strands of energy.
The sword light fell, the wisps of energy dissipated, and in the next instant, they gathered again behind him. The ink brush touched him lightly, and his sword was still in mid-air, but he was gone.
The entire space began to change. The gray-white wisps of air stopped dispersing and began to converge, moving towards the center, towards the most stable area, and towards those truly "formed" universes.
The number of phantoms decreased but they became clearer. Finally, all the wisps of energy converged at a single point, solidifying the phantom, which then rose and its robes stretched out.
The ink brush slowly expanded in my hand, growing ten, twenty, or even a hundred feet in size. The brush handle seemed to grow from nothingness, extending from top to bottom. The moment the tip touched the white paper...
The vibration of the entire space was not an external vibration, but "writing." With a stroke of the pen, a blank band stretching thousands of feet across the white paper was directly drawn.
All unstable boundaries along the way vanished simultaneously with a single vertical stroke, dividing the entire space in two.
Nothingness surged out from the crack, only to be pressed back onto the paper by the brushstroke. With the third stroke, the brightness of the entire Primordial Paper Realm plummeted.
On that ink brush, chaotic ink began to drip. Each drop that landed on the white paper formed a devouring point, which then spread and absorbed the ink.
The Chaos Ink Master, after being smoothed out and endlessly recurring, fully manifested. It made no sound, made no movement, and simply continued to "write."
Writing down the inadequate ending, writing down the Limit of creation, is also a constant "erasing," erasing all that cannot be contained.
The entire space entered a new phase, and all fifteen people were locked in place.