Time lost all meaning in the void.
Suddenly, a violent tremor wracked Xiao Yifeng’s body. He jolted awake, snapping his eyes open as if resurfacing from a deep, drowning dream.
The moment his vision cleared, his instincts screamed danger.
He didn’t think; he moved. With a fluid, practiced motion, he reversed the grip on his sword and thrust it blindly behind him, simultaneously driving his foot into the ground to propel himself forward. His figure blurred, flickering out of existence and reappearing several meters away.
Only then did he turn, sword raised in a defensive stance.
Standing in the exact spot he had just occupied was Mo Shuiyao. Her expression was cold, detached, and utterly lethal. In her delicate hand, a small, dark dagger glinted—stopped mid-air, right where his throat had been a heartbeat ago.
Seeing Xiao Yifeng’s supernatural reaction speed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed her eyes. Xiao Yifeng stared her down, his expression icy behind the "Wuchen" persona, offering no words.
He took a split second to assess his surroundings. Behind him loomed a colossal stone gate—the Gate of Hell. It seemed they had stepped through the portal only to arrive on this desolate stone platform. Ahead lay a long, earthen path stretching into an infinite, mist-shrouded void. The destination was unknown, but the air smelled of old soil and decay.
"My, my... Fellow Daoist Wuchen is truly full of surprises," Mo Shuiyao giggled, the sound light and airy, starkly contrasting with the murderous intent she radiated. She lowered her dagger gracefully. "To break free from the illusion so quickly... this humble girl barely had time to catch her breath."
She showed not a hint of shame for the failed assassination attempt. With a swirl of her skirts, she pivoted. If she couldn't kill the strongest threat, she would cull the weak.
Her gaze locked onto a solitary rogue cultivator at the Golden Core stage. He was still standing trance-like, trapped in his nightmare.
Mo Shuiyao moved like a phantom. She slashed her dagger through the air.
Ping!
A protective artifact on the rogue cultivator’s waist flared with light, intercepting the blow. The man’s face twisted in agony, his subconscious struggling against the intrusion, but he did not wake.
Mo Shuiyao’s eyes narrowed. She wasted no time. The short dagger in her hand liquefied, reshaping itself into a slender, spiraling awl. With a flick of her wrist, it became a streak of dark light.
Crunch.
The protective barrier shattered like glass. The awl punched through the artifact, tore through the cultivator’s chest, and exited his back in a spray of crimson.
The rogue cultivator died without ever opening his eyes, his body crumpling into a rapidly expanding pool of blood.
Xiao Yifeng ignored the carnage. His eyes swept the platform until he found Su Miaoqing. She was standing nearby, eyes closed, her breathing erratic. Without a word, he flickered to her side, planting himself between her and the others, his senses extended to the limit.
She was still trapped.
Xiao Yifeng’s heart tightened. He didn’t know what horrors the Reincarnation Immortal Abode was forcing her to relive. His own trial had been a vivid recreation of his past life’s death—so realistic it had nearly claimed him. If hers was anything similar...
Slowly, the others began to rouse.
The third to awaken was the red-haired Liu Yue. He gasped, his chest heaving, before letting out a long, ragged sigh. He scanned the area, his eyes hardening when he saw Xiao Yifeng standing guard and Mo Shuiyao cleaning her blade. He paused, assessing the threat, then silently moved to the far side of the platform to create distance.
Next was Lin Xiao.
Tears were streaming down the demonic cultivator's face as he woke, but the moment his eyes opened, the sorrow vanished, replaced by a glacial chill. He wiped his face, his gaze locking with Mo Shuiyao.
With his partner Mo Yu obliterated by Xiao Yifeng earlier, Lin Xiao was isolated. He moved toward Mo Shuiyao, the two demonic sect disciples silently aligning. The balance of power was shifting.
Their eyes roamed the remaining sleepers. Mo Shuiyao licked her lips, turning her attention toward Luo Yun of the Luo Shu Manor.
"Hold it," a rough voice boomed.
Liu Yue stepped forward, reaching over his shoulder to grip the hilt of his massive golden saber. "You could act recklessly before I woke up, witch. But now that I’m standing, you’d best behave. Or does this Liu keep you company on the road to the Yellow Springs?"
Mo Shuiyao paused, her expression shifting into a mock pout. "Hmph! Who would have thought a brute like you knew how to cherish jade and pity fragrance? Could it be you’ve taken a fancy to Fairy Luo?"
She exchanged a look with Lin Xiao. On the righteous side, both the mysterious "Wuchen" and the heavy-hitter Liu Yue were awake. A direct confrontation was unwise.
The two shifted their gaze toward the eccentric rogue cultivator, Wang Laoxie.
But as if sensing their intent, Wang Laoxie’s eyes snapped open. He looked at the two approaching figures, then at the corpse on the ground, and a dry, rasping chuckle escaped his throat.
"So, this is the legendary Gate of Hell," Wang Laoxie mused, his voice dripping with cynicism. "It pulls us into the void of our own minds... yet, it seems the true 'Hell' is not the environment, but the people standing next to you."
"Senior jests," Lin Xiao said with a polite, snake-like smile. "Entering the Immortal Abode is a contest of ability. Survival of the fittest—what is wrong with that?"
"I agree with you, young friend. Hahaha!" Wang Laoxie laughed heartily, though his hand rested casually near his storage pouch.
Moments later, the old Daoist Lingyun awoke with a start. Shortly after, Luo Yun’s eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes.
Xiao Yifeng arched a brow. In his estimation, Luo Yun’s mental fortitude was average at best. For her to wake this early suggested she was hiding deeper reserves—or darker secrets—than she let on.
But his attention quickly returned to the woman beside him. He looked at Su Miaoqing with growing anxiety. Everyone else had stirred, yet she remained trapped in the nightmare.
‘Wake up, Miaoqing...’ he urged silently.
Deep within the illusion, Su Miaoqing was drowning in terror.
She was back in the mountains of her youth. Before her loomed a nightmare made flesh—a colossal white serpent, its scales thick as shields, its eyes burning with predatory malice. It was the beast she and Xiao Yifeng had encountered years ago, but twisted, larger, more terrifying.
She lay paralyzed on the ground, her limbs heavy as lead. She could only watch, mute and helpless, as the serpent’s maw snapped shut around her pet beast, Xiao Bai.
Then, the tail whipped out.
Crack!
Xiao Yifeng was sent flying, crashing into the rocks. He lay there, broken and bleeding, reaching a trembling hand toward her.
"Senior Sister!" he screamed, blood bubbling from his lips. "Save me! Please!"
The giant snake turned its massive head toward her, its slit pupils filled with human-like mockery. Then, with a sickening lurch, it lunged at Xiao Yifeng.
"No!" Su Miaoqing tried to scream, but no sound came out.
She watched, eyes bulging, as the snake swallowed him whole.
Grief and horror tore through her soul. Tears streamed down her face, blinding her. She was useless. Weak. Powerless.
The serpent turned back to her. It slithered closer, the smell of rot and blood filling her nose. It opened its jaws, darkness consuming her vision.
Crunch.
Darkness.
Then, she was back on the ground. The memory reset. The horror began again.
She watched him die. Again. She watched herself fail. Again. She was eaten. Again.
The cycle repeated, grinding her sanity into dust. The illusion began to warp as her spirit frayed. The logic of the dream started to twist.
This time, Xiao Yifeng didn’t die immediately. He stood before her, drenched in gore, his face twisted into a mask of pure venom.
"It’s all your fault!" the illusionary Xiao Yifeng roared, pointing a trembling finger at her. "You never listen! You insisted on coming to this damned place to play adventurer! I hate you! I will never forgive you, even in death!"
Su Miaoqing collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, shaking her head. "No... No! Impossible! Xiao Feng would never say that!"
"He hates you!" the voice whispered in her mind. "You killed him!"
"No!" she screamed into the void. "Xiao Feng would never treat me like this!"
It’s all fake.
The thought surfaced like a bubble in a swamp.
In her daze, she remembered those words. It’s all fake. Who said that? Xiao Yifeng had said that. When? She couldn't remember.
But the seed was planted. She started to chant it in her heart, a mantra against the darkness. It’s all fake. It’s all fake.
Wait.
Why was she lying on the ground? She wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't a Qi Refining disciple. She was a Foundation Establishment cultivator. She had power. She didn't need Xiao Feng to shield her from everything.
And Xiao Feng...
The reliable, calm, gentle Xiao Feng. The boy who had grown up with her, who indulged her every whim, who looked at her with eyes full of warmth.
He might be disappointed. He might be hurt. But he would never look at her with hatred. He would never blame her with his dying breath.
The moment she grasped that truth, the illusion shuddered.
The giant snake flickered. The bloodstained rocks turned to smoke.
The Reincarnation Abode’s trap had made a fatal error. In trying to break her spirit by using Xiao Yifeng’s face to deliver the final blow, it had struck against the absolute certainty of her heart—her trust in his love. It had touched her reverse scale.
Her tears stopped. Her mind cleared.
"You are not him," she whispered.
She closed her eyes, her expression turning serene. And the world around her shattered into a million fragments of light.
When Su Miaoqing opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was a pair of familiar, dark eyes watching her with intense concern.
"Xiao Feng..." she almost blurted out, but the name died on her lips as reality rushed back. They were undercover. He was Wuchen.
"Miaoqing, are you alright?" Xiao Yifeng asked softly, his voice tight with relief. "Don't be afraid. It’s over. It was just an illusion."
Su Miaoqing’s eyes reddened. The terror of the dream was still clinging to her skin. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and weep, but she felt the gaze of the others on them.
She bit her lip, forcing the tears back, and nodded gently.
She took a shaky breath and looked around. Including herself, only eight people remained standing on the stone platform. The rogue cultivator lay nearby in a pool of cooling blood, his eyes forever shut.
The survivors eyed each other like wolves circling a carcass.
A chill ran down Su Miaoqing’s spine. She finally understood. This wasn't just an exploration; it was a slaughterhouse. This Immortal Abode didn’t just test you; it devoured people whole, without even spitting out the bones.
Just as Xiao Yifeng had warned her—this place was hell.