After Qin Yu stepped into that realm, the light domain silently closed behind him, and the last ray of pure white incandescent light was gathered into a crack as thin as a hair. Then, even the crack itself slowly dissipated, and the entire world completely flipped in an instant. Light was drawn away, direction lost its meaning, and even the concept of "space" became blurred at this moment. The next instant, endless darkness, as if it had always existed there, quietly spread out.
There was no point of impact, no boundary, no distance, only a bottomless darkness.
That darkness was not emptiness, but a primordial state "unwritten," like a sheet of paper yet to be written on, so thick that it seemed to bear countless unborn realms. Qin Yu stood within it, with no support beneath his feet, yet he stood firmly, his Fate Soul trembling slightly, creating an extremely subtle resonance with this darkness.
Then, the pen slowly appeared, not flying from afar, but "emerging" from the darkness itself.
First, a point of dark golden light quietly shone in the depths of the endless black domain, like a forgotten star core slowly awakening. Then, that point of light was infinitely stretched, and a pen body that pierced through the heavens and the earth gradually took shape. Dark golden light flowed slowly along its outline, as if the afterimages of countless worlds were compressed within it.
The entire pen, suspended in the void without any support, occupies the center of the entire "existence." It is too large, too large to be measured by any scale.
The pen body is like a spine that runs through multiple dimensions, its surface engraved with fine and ancient patterns. These patterns are not runes, but rather fragments of history that have been written and then erased. Some are flowing, some are broken, and some are reconstructing, like evidence that all rules once existed, or like the remains of all rules after they have been negated.
The pen tip, pointing downwards, touches nothingness; at that instant of contact, an extremely subtle ripple spreads out.
There was no sound, no light, yet it brought about an almost imperceptible "change" to the entire darkness.
A space that Does Not Exist before was "written" into existence.
The space had just taken shape and was not yet stable. The pen tip paused gently again, and the space instantly collapsed, like ink being wiped off the paper, erasing even the fact that it "once existed".
The next moment, the pen tip tilted slightly to one side, and a new structure was rewritten. Rules were generated, causes and effects were connected, and dimensions were superimposed.
A complete Realm Wheel takes shape briefly under the tip of the pen, only to be completely deconstructed in the next instant.
Creation, destruction, re-creation, destruction—this is not a cyclical process, but merely a random and unpredictable act. This pen is both the starting point and the end point.
Qin Yu's gaze fell on the tip of the pen, and the fluctuations deep within his Fate Soul became clearer. He didn't move, but he had already seen one thing—there were no "trial rules," no "predetermined path," and no trajectory to follow.
There is only one thing here: taking up the pen and writing. It is not about condescending control, nor is it about superficial borrowing. Rather, it is about defining everything directly from one's own perspective.
Darkness surged slowly, as if in response to this realization. Suddenly, a tiny crack appeared in the void beneath Qin Yu's feet. The crack was not a rupture of space, but the opening of a "possibility." His consciousness extended outward along the crack, and an nascent rule quietly emerged around him.
Deconstruct and rewrite: write the impossible as "has happened," and rewrite what has happened as "never existed."
Elevating himself from the being written about to the one who holds the pen, the essence of the entire Realm of Darkness unfolds completely before his eyes at this moment.
It's not a cycle but randomness, not manipulation or borrowing, not overcoming obstacles but usurping power, not adapting but replacing.
At that very moment, a very slight tremor suddenly came from the depths of darkness. The tremor had no direction, but it landed precisely on Qin Yu's Fate Soul.
The next moment, the shadow of the pen slowly lengthened.
The shadow did not adhere to the pen; instead, it spread outwards, like a liquid, dark golden abyss, beginning to spread from the bottom of the pen, covering the darkness, swallowing nothingness. Within that shadow, an outline slowly emerged.
It has no complete form, only a distorted existence.
The dark golden shadows of the pen constantly split and recombine around him, like countless pens simultaneously writing the same "killing intent" from different angles. Billions of strands of remnant souls extend from the depths of that shadow, entwining, dragging, and tearing, each strand connected to a piece of erased past.
Those lingering souls struggled on the silk threads, emitting silent howls, but their sounds were erased again before they could take shape.
That thing had no real face, but it "stared," and Qin Yu's consciousness was locked onto it in an instant.
He wasn't just seen, but "read"; his entire past was laid bare at this moment.
Every construction of the foundation of the Dao, every tremor of the soul, every branch of cause and effect.
All the unexposed cracks and all the unrepaired flaws were simultaneously revealed before that existence.
The remnant soul threads slowly drooped down, one of them brushing against Qin Yu's shoulder. Without touching him, it had already begun to corrode him.
An extremely subtle illusion appeared in his mind—an magnified past, a distorted perception, a deliberately torn rift in cause and effect. The illusion was incomplete, yet it was enough to cause any mind to stray for a moment.
The shift signifies collapse. At that very moment, Qin Yu slowly raised his gaze. He neither retreated nor resisted.
His consciousness, instead of following the intrusion of the thread, advanced deeper and deeper, until the next moment, the remnant soul thread suddenly stopped.
It felt like the first time I'd encountered a "structure" that I couldn't penetrate any further.
Qin Yu in the boundless Dark Court, his gaze fixed on the dark golden pen that pierced through the heavens and earth. There was no wind, no sound, and even the darkness was as quiet as an ancient sheet of paper that had never been written on. But this silence lasted for less than half a breath. The next moment, the first test had already arrived.
It wasn't a sudden burst of supernatural power, nor was it some kind of killing intent that could be sensed in advance. Rather, it was the sudden appearance of a shadow of "himself" deep within his sea of consciousness. The shadow wasn't complete; it was just a silhouette of someone turning around, yet it carried an extremely familiar frequency of his Fate Soul, as if it were a part of himself that had been forcibly cut off from some past.
Immediately afterwards, the second, third, and fourth outlines appeared one after another. They stood in different directions, some covered in the blood of past battles, some still stuck before a certain breakthrough, some with cold eyes, and some covered in cracks. It was as if all the remaining "selves" he had come from along the way were pulled out at the same time, forming a circle and trapping him in the center.
In the next instant, billions of remnant soul threads were suddenly drawn out from the depths of darkness, like countless long needles soaked in the obsession with the old world order, directly piercing into the chests of those shadows, and then, following the outline of the shadows' Fate Soul, inch by inch, stabbing into Qin Yu's sea of consciousness and Dao foundation.
Suddenly, the entire Dark Court was illuminated by extremely dim golden marks. These marks did not illuminate the space, but rather outlined a vast and cruel execution ground in the darkness. Ancient characters began to emerge from the void beneath Qin Yu's feet, spreading outwards. These characters were not words, but fragments of "definition." Each fragment whispered the same meaning: Who are you? What right do you have to rewrite this? You are nothing but a mistake in the old world.
Before the pain could flow through his flesh and blood, it exploded directly in the depths of his soul. The moment the first strand of remnant soul wrapped around him, the clearest memory deep in Qin Yu's sea of consciousness was suddenly torn apart. He even saw that scene being dragged out of his sea of consciousness by the strand, hanging in the darkness and swaying slowly, like a piece of paper that could be torn to shreds at any moment.
When the second thread wrapped around him, a very slight misalignment appeared in one of the newly reconstructed Dao foundation meridians within his body. The misalignment did not spread immediately, but it caused a needle-like tremor to come from the depths of his Fate Soul.
Immediately afterward, the illusion pressed down, and the darkness was no longer just darkness, but a long-sealed old world that had been suddenly turned upside down. Ahead appeared a road that was so familiar it was almost blinding. At the end of the road was not the Dark Court, not the pen, not the unknown after the dimensional ascension, but everything that had once made people stop.
The illusion didn't feature exaggerated changes or deliberate deception; it simply presented him with a path that said, "If you turn back now, it's not too late." The remnant soul threads swayed gently on either side of that path, like countless unseen hands waiting for him to walk through.
Qin Yu remained motionless, but his breathing faltered for a moment before he forcibly suppressed it and brought it back to normal. All the churning pain deep within his Fate Soul, all the memories loosened by the threads, and all the escape routes offered by the illusory realms were simultaneously drawn inward by him. He did not sever those shadows, nor did he chase after those threads. Instead, he dragged all his scattered will back to the deepest part of his sea of consciousness, back to that most unshakable core.
That point was neither radiant nor vast, yet it was heavier and colder than any of the previous six anchoring points. It pressed all of his Dao foundation, divine soul, karma, and all the "self" that had not yet crumbled along the way into that point, like forcibly breaking a cracked piece of heaven and earth into a nail.
He no longer told himself "I must protect myself," he only had one thought left—I want to ascend to a higher dimension, I want to wield the pen, I want to define everything. As soon as the thought arose, an extremely fine yet extremely deep mark suddenly appeared in the depths of his consciousness. That mark was neither a symbol nor a seal, but a brand left after cognition itself was compressed to the Ultimate. The True Annihilation Cognition Imprint finally took shape.
The moment it took shape, the Ultimate Dao essence honed from the previous five layers was simultaneously activated: the Metal's Realm Severance, the Wood's Foundation Laying, the Water's Rule Nourishment, the Fire's Flame Passing, the Earth's Narration, and the Light's Error Correction. Those insights that were once independent were forcibly fused together at this moment, transforming into an invisible cognitive barrier that spread out along his Fate Soul and Dao foundation.
The first batch of remnant soul threads that wrapped around him touched this barrier and immediately emitted an extremely fine shriek, like a sharp pen tip slicing through bone, causing his sea of consciousness to tremble violently, and blood almost simultaneously spilled from the corner of his lips, but he still did not waver.
The illusion continued to expand, and the escape route began to feel real. At the end of the road, familiar voices, old scents, and the warmth that would have pulled any cultivator back could be heard. Qin Yu's gaze darkened. He neither looked at the road nor denied the voices; he simply looked back at himself in the direction of those voices.
Every thought that was loosening, every stubbornness that was softening, every wisp of cognition that was still hoping that "turning back might not be wrong"—all of these were clearly illuminated by him at this moment. He did not argue with the illusion, nor did he shout to shatter the falsehood. He personally peeled away that last bit of thought that still wanted to leave himself a way out from his Fate Soul.
The feeling was extremely cruel, like tearing off a piece of old flesh that had not yet healed. The moment it was torn off, a sharp pain, enough to make one faint instantly, came from the depths of one's soul. The remnant soul threads took the opportunity to tighten, almost tearing the tear open completely.
In that instant, Qin Yu suddenly raised his hand, pressing his palm directly into his chest. The Source-Cause Construct Heart shook violently within his body, and the intent of the Void Source Truth Command surged upwards along his sea of consciousness. All the false paths induced by the illusion were crushed at the same time, and the path ahead suddenly twisted, like a painting scorched by fire, and the sounds at the end of the path collapsed silently.
The illusion shattered, but the impact of the shattering was even more devastating than the illusion itself. It was bound to his cognition, Qin Yu had essentially blown open an old shell in his own sea of consciousness. Countless fragments of thoughts rolled back, and at the same moment, the remnant soul threads tightened inward, as if to take advantage of the most intense moment of the soul's shock to slice him into countless pieces.
Qin Yu's vision suddenly went black, Fate Soul felt as if it were being dragged by a million hooks. Cracks reappeared in some of his previously stable Dao foundation meridians, and excruciating pain, almost tearing him apart, surged from his chest, between his brows, and deep within his sea of consciousness. He did not resist the threads. Instead, he followed the direction of their pull and directly sent his soul forward.
Instead of bowing down and compromising, he took advantage of the situation. The remnant soul threads were originally pulling outwards, but he deliberately followed their pull and sent the newly formed Dao trace of cognition from the depths of his sea of consciousness to the forefront. The Dao trace of cognition collided head-on with the threads, and the entire Dark Court seemed to tremble slightly at that moment.
In that instant, the threads tried to tear through "Qin Yu's soul," but collided with the core belief that "I want to ascend to the dimension of an author." For the first time, they did not penetrate immediately, but paused briefly during the collision.
Qin Yu seized this moment of pause. The Heavenly Cause Judgment Sequence - Six Severances Seal silently rotated deep within his Fate Soul. The Master Book Seal Severance Naming Reconstruction and Abyssal Rotation Profiling fell simultaneously. This time, he wrote not about the enemy, nor about the technique; he wrote about the location where those threads had become entangled in his sea of consciousness.
He reconstructed those locations one by one, naming them "Illusory Interfaces," and then severed them with a backhand. The instant he severed them, dozens of remnant soul threads tauted simultaneously, as if their connection with the old world order had been forcibly cut off. They did not break in two, but instead simultaneously emitted a circle of black-gold ripples, retreating half an inch along the outer edge of Qin Yu's soul. That half inch was enough.
The Dao trace of cognition in his sea of consciousness suddenly lit up, the barrier suddenly pushed outward, the remaining threads were forcibly forced away from the core of his soul, and a large area of dark golden light and shadow exploded around him, like a silent black rain.
The pain did not lessen, but deepened, because it was not that he pushed the enemy away, but that he personally peeled away the old world's instruments of torture binding his Fate Soul one by one. With each one peeled away, his sea of consciousness was torn open, and within each opening surged the remnants of past battles, obsessions, and things he had not completely let go of.
Qin Yu's face quickly turned pale, blood dripped from his forehead down his nose, and his Fate Soul fluctuations became extremely chaotic. But when the last thread was forced out of the depths of his soul and retreated back into the shadows of the Dark Court, he finally regained his footing.
The moment he steadied himself, his chest heaved violently, yet the depths of his consciousness were clearer and colder than before. The True Annihilation Cognition Dao Mark was quietly imprinted in the deepest part of his Fate Soul, like an indelible mark.
In the depths of darkness, the shadow of the World Creation Fountain Pen deepened slightly.
The True Annihilation Pen Lord did not appear; it merely watched him through the entire Dark Court. The remnant soul threads swam again in the depths of the shadows, emitting extremely faint whimpers. It had read his past and had tried to tear him apart from the weakest point of its understanding, but Qin Yu had anchored himself within two breaths, shattered the illusion, and broken free from the hunt.
The price was equally severe; his Fate Soul had been torn open with several deep rifts in that battle, and there were even unclosed black-gold wounds at the edge of his sea of consciousness. If he hadn't been careful, he would have collapsed from there. But he managed to stand firm, and this standing meant that the real next step had begun.