Outside, nothing moved.
The Infernal Hall was sealed in silence. The red mist thickened in the air, swirling through ruined thrones and melted glyphs. Across the bloodstained floor, six figures lay entangled in red threads. Their Qi was flickering. Their bodies cold.
Their minds?
Trapped.
 🌊 Illusion 3: Shui Lin – Maze Without Doors
It began like a dream should.
Shui Lin sat in the shade of a bamboo grove, legs crossed, a brush in one hand and a plum fruit in the other. Beside him, Ling Xuanye lay sprawled on the grass, pretending to nap.
A scroll spread between them.
"What's this, Shui-ge?" Xuanye yawned.
"The Spirit-Binding Array of Eight Circles," Lin replied, dipping his brush. "It's the formation that once sealed the Rain Demon for three hundred years."
Xuanye grinned. "Looks like a rabbit."
"It's not a rabbit—wait, no—don't draw ears—"
They laughed. The brush slipped. Ink smeared across the scroll.
"Maybe we should give up on formations and become chefs," Xuanye joked.
"Or we starve faster."
Their laughter echoed.
And then—
Everything froze.
The warmth died.
The orchard faded into a mirror.
Cracked.
Xuanye stood in the distance, waving.
"Come on, Lin. Time to go home."
Lin took a step.
A shadow flickered behind Xuanye. Humanoid. Limbs too long. Skin like smeared ash.
He screamed.
 "XUANYE, BEHIND YOU!"
The figure lunged.
Shui Lin moved — but his feet sank into glass.
He tried to channel Qi — but it drained. His cultivation… reversed.
Late Foundation. Then Qi Gathering. Then mortal.
"No—no no no—!"
The shadow raised a clawed hand. Xuanye turned — too late.
 CRACK.
Shui Lin leapt. But he never reached.
He fell—
—
Down.
Endless dark.
When he awoke, he stood in a place of mirrors.
A maze of silver and black. Every surface reflected his fear. His hands. His past. His powerlessness.
He ran — and ran again — every turn leading back to the center.
He screamed.
  "LET ME OUT!"
A thousand versions of himself stared back.
 "You failed." "You watched him die." "You were never strong enough to protect anyone."
He collapsed.
Alone.
❄️ Illusion 4: Yue Chányīn – Frost Upon Blood
Snow fell silently upon the stone battlefield.
Yue Chányīn stood tall, blade drawn, robes soaked in blood.
Across the plains, her father, Master of the Sword Hall, stood defiant — surrounded by robed elders from other halls, their blades drawn.
And on the jade platform above…
Sect Master Ling Tianxu sat unmoving, eyes closed.
"Father!" she cried out.
He turned to her. Calm. Proud. Wounded.
"Stay back, Chányīn. This is not your battle."
"Yes it is!"
She leapt forward.
But an invisible wall struck her mid-air, hurling her back.
She scrambled to her feet and watched as the elders — some she'd trained with, bowed to, once trusted — raised their swords.
And from the shadows, demons emerged.
Not one. Not ten.
Hundreds.
"THIS IS TREASON!" she screamed.
They didn't answer.
They charged.
Her father swung his blade — silver light raining down in arcs. Disciples of the Sword Hall rallied to his side — outnumbered, overwhelmed.
She tried again.
 Formless Step: Moon-Split Crossing!
She struck the barrier again. It cracked — but did not shatter.
Her sword hand trembled.
She watched as a demon lunged at her father's back.
"NO—!"
 Shattered Ice — Threefold Bloom!
She exploded into movement, piercing the barrier.
But too late.
Her father's sword arm was severed. His chest torn.
And still… he stood.
In his last breath, he held a jade pendant to his chest — one with her image inside.
Then—
He fell.
She reached him, but too late. She cradled his body.
His lips moved.
  "Trust is a blade... sharper than any enemy."
She looked up.
The Sect Master still did not move.
Â
And then the snow turned red.
Â
Outside, Yue Chányīn's hand twitched.
A frozen tear rolled down her cheek.
Â
Above it all, the glowing eye in the ceiling narrowed. Not in cruelty.
But in curiosity.
Like it was waiting for the final dream to begin.
Â
To be continued...