Not only were the attendants affected, but even Wu Ma Hai, who was in the small courtyard, felt the impact.
Behind Dongbo Xueying, the colossal Vermilion Nightmare Bird flapped its wings. The defensive formations of the palace below, now without a controller—as Wu Ma Hai was too busy resisting the illusion to spare any attention—were effortlessly dismantled by Dongbo Xueying through his mastery of the void. The palace materialized from the emptiness.
With a single step through the void, Dongbo Xueying appeared directly before Wu Ma Hai in the depths of the palace courtyard.
“Damn it, break free, break free!” Wu Ma Hai felt utterly wretched.
The sudden illusion had forcibly dragged him into a nightmare world, reminiscent of the terrifying dreams he had as a child. He struggled to open his eyes, only to be pulled back under. The cycle of resistance and surrender was all too familiar, yet now it felt even more oppressive. Wu Ma Hai’s mental fortitude and soul strength far surpassed that of Hei Kui Mo, allowing him to remain partially aware of the illusion.
He fought desperately to break free, and indeed, he managed glimpses of the courtyard—only to be dragged back under again. The relentless cycle of breaking free and falling back into the illusion was maddening.
“Whoosh—” Crimson mist filled the courtyard, continuously pulling Wu Ma Hai back into the illusion.
This was the terrifying power of the Vermilion Nightmare Illusion.
Unlike illusions conjured through conventional means, the Vermilion Nightmare Illusion was innate, requiring no active control from Dongbo Xueying. Its seductive aura assaulted the enemy endlessly, ensuring that even those who resisted full submersion would still be affected. Wu Ma Hai, despite his mental state reaching the higher realm of “My Heart, My Heaven,” could only muster half his usual strength under its influence.
Worse still, his mental cultivation was merely at the “Heart as a Blade” level. Trapped in the cycle of illusion and reality, he barely sensed the presence of his enemy—the white-robed Dongbo Xueying—amidst the blurred surroundings.
“No, no… how can this be?” Wu Ma Hai’s heart turned icy as he realized the unprecedented danger he faced. In past crises, he could fight or flee. But now, he was locked in a battle against the illusion, utterly defenseless against his foe.
“Is it Dongbo Xueying? How has he grown so strong?” Wu Ma Hai couldn’t believe it. “Last time we fought, he didn’t possess such terrifying illusion techniques.”
—
In the courtyard, Dongbo Xueying watched as Wu Ma Hai trembled uncontrollably. “Illusions,” he mused, “can be weak or devastatingly powerful.”
Against those with weaker mental fortitude, illusions were far more effective than direct combat. But against the mentally resilient, they faltered. The Vermilion Nightmare Illusion, however, as an ancient cultivation technique, surpassed ordinary illusions. It could repeatedly drag enemies into its grasp, weakening them to the point where even those who resisted would be severely hampered in battle—enough to rival a sixth-level combatant of the Star Tower.
“Wu Ma Hai has no chance left,” Dongbo Xueying shook his head.
“Spare… spare me…” Wu Ma Hai barely managed to croak, his eyes still shut tight as he wrestled with the illusion.
“Descend.”
Dongbo Xueying showed no mercy.
Wu Ma Hai and his ilk were notorious fiends in the Myriad Ancient Sacred World. Slaying such demons aligned with the laws of the Sky Void Palace, which encouraged disciples to purge evil. While the Sacred World was under the rule of the Realm Ancestor, preventing large-scale hunts by other factions, individual vendettas like this were permitted.
“Multi-Layered Dark Realm.”
Boom—!
A Dark Realm enveloped the shuddering Wu Ma Hai, manifesting from illusion into reality with a surge of primal energy that shook the surroundings. The membrane of this Dark Realm boasted a staggering 2,500 layers.
If a 600-layered Dark Realm rivaled the Heavenly Punishment Blade, then 2,500 layers far surpassed it. Dongbo Xueying chose this method precisely because its destructive force was contained within the Dark Realm, sparing the surroundings. Unleashing the Heavenly Punishment Blade here would have caused catastrophic collateral damage.
“Boom!!!”
The compressed Dark Realm exploded, annihilating everything within—including Wu Ma Hai’s body, which dissolved into water.
Silence returned.
But the twisted water gradually reformed into Wu Ma Hai’s shape, though his aura had weakened significantly. Previously, he had withstood three Heavenly Punishment Blades—but those were separate strikes, and he had been able to divert their force. Now, under the illusion’s grip, he could only rely on his body to endure the concentrated might of the Dark Realm.
A single blow had crippled him.
“I… refuse to accept this…” Wu Ma Hai groaned, still unable to open his eyes.
“Boom.”
Dongbo Xueying unleashed another Multi-Layered Dark Realm.
Once, twice, thrice.
Each time, 2,500 layers of darkness descended. By the fifth strike, Wu Ma Hai’s body was utterly obliterated.
“Incredible resilience,” Dongbo Xueying marveled. “Without the illusion, he could have withstood dozens of these attacks by redirecting the force. If I were in his place, I’d have been annihilated in one hit.”
With a wave of his hand, Dongbo Xueying collected Wu Ma Hai’s remnants, his gaze lingering on a peculiar stone mirror the demon had clutched even in the throes of the illusion.
“A stone mirror?” Dongbo Xueying sensed its uniqueness and examined it closely.
—
In the Myriad Ancient Sacred World, within the enigmatic Realm Ancestor’s Palace, two figures stood side by side. One was the Black Emperor, and the other a diminutive man in deep green robes, his wide mouth curled in a cheerful grin. His eyes sparkled with childlike innocence, yet none would dare mock him—for he was the Realm Ancestor, second only to the Sacred Master in power.
Unlike the versatile Witch Ancestor or the reclusive Mother Ancestor, the Realm Ancestor fearlessly clashed with the Sacred Master head-on, his body honed to unimaginable heights. He was the progenitor of the Devouring Path, the reason countless demons feasted on lives with impunity.
Yet none dared condemn him—those who did faced his wrath.
“Interesting, very interesting,” the Realm Ancestor cackled, his voice grating as the space before him twisted to reveal Dongbo Xueying inspecting the stone mirror.
“What a coincidence,” the Black Emperor chuckled. “Senior Brother, it seems young Dongbo is fated with our lineage. First, he mastered my legacy, and now he’s obtained your treasure.”
Their exchange, if overheard, would send shockwaves through the cosmos—for the Black Emperor had never publicly addressed the Realm Ancestor as “Senior Brother.”
“Let’s see how far this boy can go with it,” the Realm Ancestor sneered.
The treasure had borne many names—”Stone Heart,” “Broken Shield,” “Scale,” “Ancient Armor”—each iteration passing through the hands of ancient cultivators, its legend growing until the Realm Ancestor claimed it, reshaping it anew each era. This time, it took the form of a stone mirror, circulating among five Unity realm experts before reaching Dongbo Xueying.
“Our lineage has two branches,” the Black Emperor said. “He’s inherited mine, and now holds your treasure. With his talent, he may yet walk far on the ancient path—perhaps even join our sect.”
“Ha! This treasure has wandered for ages, and our sect has only three members, including our junior brother,” the Realm Ancestor scoffed. “Him?”
“Never say never,” the Black Emperor grinned.
The Realm Ancestor snorted and waved his hand, dispersing the vision.
(End of Chapter)
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