Su Ye's body plunged into the abyss of darkness, silent as a heavy iron weight sinking into an unknown depth. The surrounding black mist thickened, as though countless sticky hands reached out, trying to drag him deeper. His fingers twitched slightly, sensing subtle changes in the air. With a sudden twist midair, his feet landed squarely on a broken platform suspended in the void. Using the momentum, he leaped, stabilizing himself and halting his descent.
Faint whispers drifted to his ears—disjointed and sharp, like the screech of rusted nails scraping together. Ahead, a dim light flickered into existence. It was cold, akin to the glow of fireflies, yet unnervingly piercing. The source was a strange floating object resembling a human face, grotesquely distorted. Its features were scattered chaotically across its surface, with a grotesque mouth stretched wide, revealing jagged, blade-like teeth. Su Ye's gaze locked onto the thing as he shifted his stance slightly, positioning himself to strike at any moment.
The face emitted a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the space, shaking the very air. A powerful shockwave burst forth, and Su Ye raised his arm to shield himself, absorbing the brunt of the force. The entity moved in a blur, its glowing form elongating like a shadow pulled taut. In an instant, it lunged at Su Ye, its razor-sharp teeth aimed for his throat.
Su Ye reacted with lightning speed, springing backward just in time to evade the deadly strike. Simultaneously, his left hand darted forward, gripping the creature's neck with crushing force. The grotesque face let out a piercing scream as its twisted form warped like clay under his grip. Without hesitation, Su Ye's right fist hammered down with the force of an iron mallet, smashing into its face. The entity's visage splintered like a torn canvas, spilling black liquid that hissed and corroded the ground where it fell.
The whispers in the air escalated, becoming a chaotic cacophony, as if countless warped voices clamored in desperation. Su Ye stood over the remains, his gaze cold and unyielding. The black liquid, alive and vengeful, began creeping toward him, pooling like a sentient tide. With a subtle flicker of his eyes, Su Ye propelled himself upward, landing deftly on a higher platform. The liquid, enraged, surged faster, crawling up walls and columns in pursuit.
The space around him convulsed violently. Cracks spread across the walls like spiderwebs, and within them, distorted figures writhed, struggling to emerge. Their faces were unnaturally elongated, mouths split to their ears, with sunken hollows where eyes should have been. The creatures clawed out of the fissures with jerky, yet menacing movements, their spindly arms reaching for Su Ye.
He dodged one clawed hand that swiped dangerously close to his shoulder. With fluid precision, he caught the creature's arm mid-swing, yanking it fully from the crack and slamming it to the ground. The creature staggered upright, its joints emitting unsettling clicks. Its hands morphed into blade-like appendages, slicing through the air in a deadly arc aimed at Su Ye's chest.
Su Ye sidestepped smoothly, his body a blur of motion. His right leg lashed out like a whip, striking the creature's knee from the side and disrupting its balance. As it stumbled forward, Su Ye seized the opportunity, locking his left hand around its head. With a sharp, brutal motion, his right elbow crashed down, obliterating its skull in an explosion of dark fluid. The air thickened with the stench of decay.
More figures clawed their way free, their numbers seemingly infinite. Yet Su Ye's movements remained unwavering. His fists struck with thunderous precision, each blow shattering his foes with devastating efficiency. His footwork was as swift as it was calculated, slipping through their attacks like a shadow. The onslaught was relentless, but none could survive his precise, unyielding strikes.
As the battle raged, a deep rumble echoed overhead. A massive force descended from above, shaking the very ground. Su Ye leapt back, his sharp gaze locking onto the source. From the ceiling's largest crack, a colossal monstrosity emerged, pieced together from countless corpses. Its translucent skin revealed a grotesque tapestry of writhing organs, and at its core, a pulsating heart emitted a faint, eerie glow. Its massive limbs, grotesquely muscular, shattered the ground with every step, widening the fractures below.
The creature wasted no time, swinging a massive arm downward with bone-crushing force. Su Ye darted to the side, narrowly evading the strike. The ground where the arm landed erupted into a shower of debris. Before the dust settled, Su Ye lunged forward, his body a streak of motion aimed at the beast's chest. His fist, coiled with immense power, drove into the creature's heart.
The impact resonated like a thunderclap, freezing the creature in place. Light flared violently from its chest as its body began to disintegrate, unraveling into countless motes of light that scattered into the void.
Silence fell over the space. Su Ye stood amidst the ruins, his figure steady as the fractured ground slowly knitted itself back together. Yet the air remained heavy with an oppressive, otherworldly presence. Without hesitation, he turned and strode toward a half-open door ahead, its dim outline the only hint of what lay beyond.
Su Ye stepped through the half-open door and into a peculiar realm, a space devoid of defined boundaries where endless darkness intertwined with distorted light. Everything around him seemed to be in constant motion—the ground rippled like liquid, the walls twisted and contorted, exuding an oppressive and suffocating aura. Each step he took made the air grow heavier, as if unseen hands were grasping at him from every direction, desperate to drag him into an infinite abyss.
The moment he entered, an overwhelming pressure descended upon him, like the weight of an entire world crushing his shoulders. Even breathing became a struggle. From the surrounding darkness came a low, indistinct voice, a sound without a clear source, resonating from every direction at once. Su Ye stopped, his sharp gaze scanning every inch of the space, his movements steady and deliberate. His right hand drifted subtly behind his back, poised to strike at a moment's notice.
The voice grew clearer, though no less unsettling. It spoke in an unintelligible tongue, the cadence disjointed and erratic, like fragments of sound torn apart and reassembled without meaning. "What… none… countless… too late…" The broken phrases were incomprehensible, a patchwork of discordant murmurs that seemed designed to unnerve.
Su Ye's brow furrowed slightly, though his expression betrayed no fear—only heightened vigilance. A heartbeat later, the darkness around him came alive. Cracks split the ground, spreading like veins, and from those cracks emerged grotesque figures, their forms warped as if molded by malicious intent. Their limbs were elongated and misshapen, their movements jerky and unnatural. They had no discernible faces—only countless slender fissures from which oozed a chorus of chilling whispers, as though their very existence was a curse.
Su Ye wasted no time. His body moved like a blade cutting through the air, his fist slamming into the nearest creature. The impact resounded with a deep, resonant thud, the creature's form tearing apart in a spray of blackened ichor and mangled flesh. The ground hissed and smoked where the liquid fell, the stench acrid and nauseating. Yet the creature's remains did not dissipate; instead, as if drawn by some unseen force, they reassembled themselves with alarming speed. The cracks in the ground pulsed as the voices grew more frantic, an incoherent cacophony reverberating all around him.
"Do… you… exist?" one of the creatures suddenly rasped, its voice brittle and grating, like dead branches scraping against stone. The words carried no logic, no intent to communicate—only a maddening emptiness.
Su Ye gave no response. His left fist lashed out, smashing into another creature's head. The skull-like mass crumpled with a sickening crack, fragments scattering across the floor. Yet the creature did not fall; its body, like a liquid held together by malevolent will, began to reform, its fractured pieces flowing back into place with unnerving fluidity.
Su Ye's eyes narrowed slightly, a glimmer of thought flashing across his gaze. His strikes, no matter how forceful, failed to deal lasting damage. These entities were bound by laws beyond the physical, their forms tethered to something he could not yet see. Recognizing this, his movements became even more precise, his blows calculated to conserve energy and disrupt their regeneration rather than destroy them outright.
The creatures shifted tactics, spreading out to encircle him. They moved with unnatural speed, their erratic motions defying prediction. Su Ye planted his foot firmly on the rippling ground, propelling himself backward in a graceful arc that carried him out of their reach. His right fist shot forward like a thunderbolt, driving into another creature's chest. The impact collapsed its torso inwards, viscera and ichor spraying outward, but the entity's liquefied remains reassembled almost instantly, as though mocking the futility of his attacks.
Around him, the dissonant whispers intensified, merging into a chaotic symphony that seemed to echo from every direction. The creatures were no longer attacking purely with brute force. Their movements and the suffocating atmosphere conveyed an insidious intent—a psychological assault aimed at eroding Su Ye's composure, trapping him in an endless cycle of futility and despair.
Su Ye's expression remained cold, his thoughts sharp as a blade. He quickly discerned their strategy. These entities weren't relying on physical might but rather a more abstract form of warfare, manipulating his perceptions and thoughts to ensnare him in an infinite maze of doubt and repetition.
Suddenly, everything fell silent. The creatures froze, their grotesque forms unnervingly still, and the oppressive whispers ceased. The silence was deafening, the kind that clawed at the edges of the mind. Su Ye's heartbeat quickened imperceptibly as the pressure in the air intensified, the space around him growing colder, more transparent, and impossibly unreal.
Without warning, an immense psychic force surged from every direction, bearing down on his consciousness like an unrelenting tide. Su Ye's eyes narrowed, his focus tightening to a razor's edge. With practiced precision, he emptied his mind of all distractions, his awareness condensing into a state of pure clarity. The oppressive weight of the space and the creatures within it seemed to lessen, unable to breach the fortress of his will.
Then, a laughter unlike any he had ever heard reverberated through the void. It carried no melody, no discernible tone, yet it was everywhere at once, pressing against the walls of his mind. The sound was maddening, as if reality itself were cracking under its weight. Su Ye's expression remained unshaken, his right hand rising to press firmly against his temple. He centered himself, fortifying his mental defenses against the intangible assault.
In that moment, he understood. This was not a battle of physical strength. He was ensnared within a metaphysical domain where the rules of reality held no sway. The creatures were but manifestations of a larger, more insidious presence—a force that sought to overwhelm his mind rather than his body.
Taking a deep breath, Su Ye steadied his spirit. His gaze grew sharper, his presence more resolute. The air around him seemed to shift as his understanding of the space deepened, the connection between him and this surreal realm becoming increasingly clear.
Su Ye stood in the empty space, the surrounding darkness seeming to compress even tighter under some unseen force. There was no sound, no movement, only a pervasive stillness that filled the air like a suffocating fog. Suddenly, a faint light flickered in the distance—a fragile glow, like the wavering light of a single bulb, barely piercing the oppressive blackness. Without hesitation, Su Ye bent his knees slightly and moved swiftly toward the source of the light. Each step he took echoed with an eerie sound, like the snapping of brittle bones, a sharp and jarring noise in the oppressive silence.
As he approached, the darkness gradually receded, revealing the outline of a room. The space was sparsely furnished, containing only a few chairs, a table, and a dim, flickering lamp. Seated within were a group of seemingly ordinary men and women. Their appearances were unremarkable—tidy clothes, calm expressions, and eyes devoid of malice. They looked entirely human.
One of them, a middle-aged man, rose to his feet, a warm smile spreading across his face as he stepped toward Su Ye. "You've come. Finally," he said in a gentle tone, his voice calm and inviting, like an old friend greeting someone after a long absence.
Su Ye's gaze remained cold, unflinching, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every detail of the room and its occupants. He detected no hostility in their demeanor; in fact, their smiles seemed unusually kind, almost too kind. Their expressions held neither greed nor aggression, only a disquieting serenity that felt out of place.
His brows furrowed slightly, but he remained silent. The middle-aged man, unfazed by Su Ye's indifference, gestured warmly toward a chair. "Sit down. You must be tired," he said. "This place may be simple, but it's far safer than what lies outside. Rest a while. Here, have some water."
He reached for a glass on the table, filled it, and extended it toward Su Ye.
Su Ye didn't take it. His eyes fixed on the ripples in the water's surface, observing the faint disturbances with unrelenting vigilance. Every fiber of his being remained taut, alert to even the slightest hint of danger.
The others in the room stayed motionless, their faces adorned with the same serene smiles. They exuded an atmosphere of disarming tranquility, a peace so complete it felt unnaturally contrived. Su Ye didn't lower his guard for an instant. He remained standing, his cold gaze dissecting every nuance of their behavior. He knew that such seemingly ordinary people couldn't possibly lack ulterior motives.
The middle-aged man, still smiling, placed the glass back on the table and walked toward a window. Pulling aside the curtain, he revealed a view of nothingness—an expanse of endless darkness, devoid of stars or any trace of life. It was a void that seemed to swallow existence itself.
Turning back, the man's expression remained gentle, though his eyes gleamed with something inscrutable. "We're not your enemies," he said softly. "We're here to help you."
The simplicity of his words carried a weight that unsettled Su Ye. This so-called "help" was anything but straightforward.
Su Ye's hands tightened imperceptibly, his body remaining in a state of heightened readiness. He could sense the faint undercurrent of danger beneath the surface of this placid façade.
The atmosphere grew heavier, the silence more suffocating. The middle-aged man smiled faintly, tilting his head slightly. "You find this place strange, don't you? You think we're different from you, don't you?"
He didn't wait for a reply. Instead, his tone shifted, a quiet insistence creeping into his voice. "The truth is, we're the same as you—just travelers passing through. The only difference is, you haven't realized it yet."
Before Su Ye could react, something changed. The "ordinary people" around him moved all at once, their actions unnaturally synchronized. Their faces still bore those unsettling smiles, but their eyes now glinted with an alien intensity.
A surge of oppressive force filled the room. Su Ye's instincts screamed a warning. He shifted his body slightly, evading an attack from his left. A young woman lunged at him, her hand slicing through the air with razor-like precision, the sound of her movement sharp and deadly.
Su Ye countered instantly, his right fist driving into her chest. The impact resounded like a drumbeat, sending her body hurtling into the wall with a bone-crunching thud. Her frame crumpled unnaturally, the sound of snapping bones reverberating through the room. Yet her face remained unchanged, that eerie smile fixed in place, as though pain was a foreign concept to her.
Su Ye didn't pause. His eyes darted around the room, tracking the movements of the others. The middle-aged man hadn't moved, still standing calmly, though a faint chill now glimmered in his eyes.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut. The air thickened with a sharp, acrid smell, a chemical tang that burned Su Ye's senses. He held his breath instinctively, but it was already too late. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, his vision blurring as the room began to warp and distort.
The middle-aged man stepped closer, his voice low and almost hypnotic. "We're not your enemies. We're your only choice."
Each word carried a strange weight, burrowing into Su Ye's mind, tugging at the edges of his reason.
Fighting the haze clouding his thoughts, Su Ye pressed a hand firmly to his temple, forcing himself back into focus. His body steadied, his steps regaining their surety. With clarity restored, he wasted no time.
He struck with brutal efficiency, fists hammering into the bodies of the "ordinary people." Each blow landed with devastating force, the sound of shattering bones and tearing flesh filling the air. Yet their bodies reacted as if impervious, their smiles unbroken even as Su Ye's relentless strikes tore through them.
Each punch was like shattering glass, each collision a symphony of destruction. But no matter how much force he unleashed, it was as if his attacks couldn't touch the essence of what these people truly were.
Su Ye's fist struck out once more, and this time, he could clearly feel his power connect. The target's body emitted the sound of bones shattering, slamming into the wall with such force that it left a deep, jagged indentation. But in the next moment, the face—twisted in an instant of impact—slowly turned back toward him. It still bore the exact same smile: no pain, no anger, not even a flicker of emotion. It was like a mask painted with an eternal grin.
The cracks in the wall trembled faintly, but the body didn't slide down. Instead, it remained grotesquely embedded, the neck twisting at an unnatural angle as if observing him in some impossible way. No words, no movement—just that gaze.
The chemical scent in the air grew sharper, stinging his nostrils with a numbing intensity. The others in the room remained seated, their expressions as rigid as statues. Suddenly, one of the women spoke. Her voice was soft, like a whisper at his ear, yet each word struck his eardrums with piercing clarity:
"What are you still struggling for? Do you think your fists can change anything?"
Her tone was soothing, almost maternal, like someone comforting a lost child. But Su Ye could feel the edges of her words—gentle as a dull blade, slowly grinding against his nerves.
He didn't respond. His foot slammed against the floor, sending cracks spidering outward as his body launched forward like a missile. There was no pretense, no wasted movement. His fist aimed directly at her skull, the trajectory sharp and lethal, his strength calibrated to obliterate anything in its path.
Yet the moment his fist connected with her face, Su Ye felt a sensation he had never encountered before. It wasn't the soft give of flesh or the resistance of bone. It was something viscous, like plunging into mud. His fist passed through her head without resistance, without destruction.
Her head, now perforated, showed no sign of pain or reaction. If anything, the corners of her smile seemed to deepen slightly. Her voice came again, calm and unwavering:
"Do you think violence brings meaning?"
Her head detached itself from his fist with an unnatural elasticity, like rubber snapping back into shape. Even her smile remained perfectly intact, untouched by the grotesque distortion.
A slow clap echoed through the room. The middle-aged man stood, walked to the table, and picked up a pitcher. He poured water into a glass with deliberate care before extending it toward Su Ye, his expression one of quiet hospitality.
"Have some water," he said, his voice as casual as if they were in a café. "You look like you could use a moment to calm down."
His tone was so unassuming, so utterly devoid of hostility, that it sent a chill down Su Ye's spine. The more harmless he appeared, the more unnerving he became.
Su Ye didn't move, his gaze shifting to the table instead. The objects on it seemed ordinary at first glance, but under closer inspection, every detail exuded a subtle wrongness. A photograph, for instance, depicted a smiling face that appeared normal—until you noticed that the features were subtly misplaced, as though deliberately rearranged. A glass jar held a clear liquid, but within it, a pair of eyes floated, their pupils lazily swiveling until they seemed to lock onto Su Ye's own.
The middle-aged man noticed Su Ye's scrutiny and chuckled lightly. "Everything here has a story, just like us," he said, his voice calm yet laced with a quiet menace. "Every person who comes here leaves something behind—and takes something with them."
His words carried a weight that pressed into Su Ye's mind, each syllable sinking deeper like a needle piercing flesh. "You're no exception," the man continued. "This isn't a battlefield. This is where you're meant to stop."
Su Ye's eyes flicked back to the seated figures. Their movements had grown almost imperceptible, subtle sways of their bodies like dancers following a rhythm only they could hear. Yet there was no music, and their motions were disjointed, unnatural, like malfunctioning machinery. Every second was imbued with an escalating sense of unease.
Abruptly, the chemical odor dissipated, replaced by the nauseating stench of rot. It rolled in like a tide, a sickening blend of decay and sun-baked corpses, overwhelming in its intensity. The floor trembled beneath him. Looking down, Su Ye saw dark red liquid seeping from the cracks, oozing with a disturbing sentience as it crept toward him.
He leapt back, his right foot slamming down to shatter the advancing cracks, temporarily halting the flow. But the liquid didn't stop; it climbed the walls, pooling on the ceiling before forming a humanoid silhouette.
As the shape solidified, its face became unmistakably clear—it was Su Ye's own reflection.
"Why do you reject yourself?" the figure asked. Its voice was low and gravelly, its tone devoid of emotion yet heavy with accusation. It stared at him, not with hostility but with an unrelenting focus that was impossible to ignore.
Su Ye didn't answer. The blade in his hand flashed, cutting through the air with deadly precision toward the figure's head. The moment the knife struck, a shrill, piercing screech exploded—not from the impact, but from deep within Su Ye's mind.
The pain was momentary, but enough to disrupt his balance. Adjusting quickly, he caught the falling knife mid-air and thrust it again, this time driving it home. The figure dissolved instantly, vanishing into the void, leaving nothing but a blank, unbroken wall.
From behind him, the middle-aged man's voice returned, carrying an unmistakable note of amusement. "You can't defeat it," he said, his tone light, almost indulgent. "Because it's always been a part of you."
Su Ye's gaze swept coldly across the room, the dagger in his hand spinning lightly between his fingers, its blade catching and refracting the pale light with an icy gleam. At last, he spoke, his voice low and sharp, like a blade scraping against stone:
"Leave."
The single word landed like a thunderclap, freezing everything in the room. Even time seemed to halt under the weight of his command. The seemingly human figures ceased all movement, their bodies trembling unnaturally, like rusted machinery grinding to a halt. A faint, grating sound echoed, the noise of misaligned gears struggling to turn.
The middle-aged man's smile faltered, stiffening unnaturally. His head began to jerk violently, his eyes spinning wildly in their sockets like a malfunctioning gyroscope. The once-healthy sheen of his skin faded rapidly, turning ashen and dry, resembling a discarded rubber mask. Then, with a sickening creak, his jaw unhinged far beyond natural limits, opening into an impossibly wide arc as if he might devour his own head.
The others followed suit. The woman's limbs stretched grotesquely, her joints bending at impossible angles, her elbows and knees twisting backward. Her skin, thin as stretched plastic, revealed a network of dark red veins pulsing beneath the surface. Her head snapped sharply to one side with a sickening crack, her neck clearly broken, yet the smile on her face remained, growing even more twisted in its eeriness.
Though their movements weren't overtly hostile, the oppressive atmosphere thickened with each unnatural shift of their bodies. It was as though they were puppets pulled by invisible strings, their forms expanding and contorting, becoming something increasingly inhuman.
Su Ye stepped back slightly, his dagger's tip lifting ever so slightly, ready to intercept any sudden attack.
The man embedded in the wall began to slide free, his body half-melted, his limbs dangling bonelessly as he slumped to the ground. His face had dissolved into a blurred outline, the features erased as if rubbed away by a careless hand, leaving only two dark hollows where his eyes should have been. He moved mechanically, dragging his feet in uneven, scraping steps toward Su Ye.
The rancid stench of decay thickened, suffocating the air. The dark red liquid on the floor began to writhe, snakelike tendrils slithering toward the figures. The liquid climbed their bodies, coating their skin with a slick, glistening film, transforming their already grotesque forms into something even more nightmarish.
At last, the middle-aged man spoke, his voice a harsh, broken rasp, as though it had been warped by a damaged phonograph:
"Why do you resist? We only want you to… understand."
Su Ye didn't answer. His body surged forward, the dagger slicing through the air in a blinding arc aimed directly at the man's throat. The blade bit into the skin, but instead of flesh, it met a strange, rubbery resistance. The dagger sank in but refused to cut cleanly.
With a sharp kick to the man's chest, Su Ye yanked the dagger free. The force sent the man hurtling backward, his body slamming into the wall with a dull, heavy thud. Yet he didn't collapse. Instead, he began to meld with the wall, his form sinking into it as though the two were becoming one.
A deep fissure split across his face, dark red liquid seeping from the crack. The liquid defied gravity, floating upward and coalescing into the shape of a disembodied hand. It reached for Su Ye with deliberate intent.
He sidestepped, the dagger flashing in a precise horizontal slash that severed the hand. But the liquid didn't dissipate; instead, it reassembled, multiplying into countless hands that surged toward him from every direction.
Su Ye retreated swiftly, his feet striking the floor in rapid succession. Each step unleashed shockwaves that fractured the ground, momentarily scattering the liquid appendages into fragments. But the pieces reformed almost instantly, their numbers seeming inexhaustible.
Meanwhile, the other figures had completed their grotesque transformations. Their bodies were now smooth and plastic-like, their features erased, replaced by blank, featureless faces. Yet their movements grew faster, far beyond the limits of human capability.
Su Ye inhaled deeply, his body tensing as he sprang into action. Moving like a tempest, he wove through the monstrosities with surgical precision. His dagger struck at joints and seams, each slash accompanied by subtle vibrations that maximized the damage. Deep gashes split the floor in his wake, the air charged with the heat of his relentless assault.
Still, the creatures didn't stop. Even dismembered, their pieces wriggled across the ground, seeking to reattach themselves.
Su Ye's expression remained icy. With a sharp stomp, he shattered the floor beneath him, creating a cloud of dust as he descended to a lower level. In the brief moment of freefall, he drew a second dagger from his belt, crossing the twin blades in a devastating arc aimed at the swirling liquid above.
A piercing screech erupted as the liquid splintered apart, but it refused to vanish entirely. Instead, it became more feral, converging on him with renewed fury.
Unfazed, Su Ye continued to cut through the onslaught, his twin blades a blur of motion. Yet even as he fought, his mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation. These entities were no longer bound by the rules of the physical world. His strikes could only delay them, not destroy them.
Then his eyes caught a flicker in the corner of the room—a faint, irregular glow. The light, dim and wavering, stood out against the oppressive chaos. It was the only anomaly in an otherwise nightmarish scene.
Without hesitation, Su Ye shifted his stance and dashed toward the light, his daggers ready to carve a path through whatever stood in his way.
Su Ye darted toward the corner like an arrow, his silhouette slicing through the oppressive darkness. The lamp came into sharper focus, its cold, white light glowing faintly—not harsh, but eerily serene, like a bioluminescent creature lurking in the depths of an abyss, beautiful yet deadly.
His daggers traced silvery arcs as he ran, their edges poised to counter any sudden assault. Behind him, the grotesque figures had halted, as though stripped of purpose. Their distorted forms slowly melted into the floor, vanishing like shadows consumed by darkness. Yet Su Ye didn't relax; he knew every inch of this space was steeped in hidden peril. Hesitation or complacency would only hasten his death.
As he neared the light, the air around him shifted violently. It felt thick, viscous, as though he'd stepped into a pool of molasses. Every movement became laborious, his breath constricted as if an invisible hand clutched his throat. Refusing to stop, he forced his way forward, raising a dagger and plunging it into the metal stand holding the lamp.
The blade met resistance with a piercing screech, sparks flying as steel bit into steel. In an instant, the lamp's light flared blindingly bright, flooding the room with a searing brilliance. Then, just as quickly, it shattered into countless fragments of light, scattering like fireflies suspended in the air.
These glowing fragments pulsed faintly, exuding an unnatural chill. They began to circle Su Ye, spinning faster and faster until they coalesced into a massive vortex. Su Ye's eyes swept over the swirling chaos, calm but calculating. At the vortex's center, a shadowy figure emerged, its outline sharpening until it became unmistakable.
It was him.
The face staring back at him was identical to his own, save for one detail—the eyes. They were devoid of life, dark and hollow, like the bottomless pits of an abyss. The doppelgänger's lips curled into an unnatural grin, the corners of its mouth stretching far too wide, almost splitting to its ears. From within the vortex, a voice seeped out, deep and distorted, carrying a cadence that sent chills through the bones.
"Why do you still resist? This place… it belongs to you."
The figure stepped forward, its movements stiff but radiating an oppressive weight. In its hand, it held a weapon—neither blade nor sword, but a warped amalgamation of the two, its surface shimmering with a dim, ghostly light.
Su Ye said nothing, his gaze narrowing. Then, in a flash, he struck. His dagger became a streak of cold light, hurtling toward the doppelgänger's throat.
But the figure moved with an inhuman fluidity, contorting its body in impossible ways. Joints bent at unnatural angles as it sidestepped the attack with ease, its movements unnervingly precise, like a marionette manipulated by unseen hands.
The two clashed instantly, their weapons slicing through the air in a deadly dance. Sparks flew as blades met in rapid succession, their speed blurring into streaks of light. Su Ye's strikes were relentless, each one a masterclass in precision and power, aimed to exploit any weakness. Yet the doppelgänger evaded them all, its every dodge eerily anticipatory, as if it already knew Su Ye's every move.
The realization crept in like frost—he wasn't fighting an opponent; he was facing something that transcended him, something that shouldn't exist.
Mid-combat, the doppelgänger's weapon flared with a blinding light. The glow erupted forward, a razor-sharp beam aimed directly at Su Ye's face.
He didn't flinch. Dropping low, he twisted his daggers in a tight arc, deflecting the light with a calculated counter. The force of the impact drove him back several paces, his feet carving deep grooves into the floor. The air crackled with the scent of burnt metal and singed fabric.
Across from him, the figure didn't press the attack. Instead, it stood motionless, letting out a chilling laugh. The sound wasn't human—it was a cacophony of overlapping voices, discordant and grating, as though an entire crowd was laughing in unison.
"You know this isn't a fight," it said, its voice reverberating like a tremor through the room. "It's a struggle… against yourself."
Su Ye didn't respond. His expression remained impassive as he crouched low, muscles coiling like a spring. The floor beneath him cracked, and with an explosive burst of energy, he launched himself forward. Twin blades crossed in a devastating strike, silver arcs slashing toward the figure's core.
This time, the doppelgänger didn't dodge. It met the attack head-on, its warped weapon crashing against Su Ye's daggers. The collision unleashed a shockwave that tore through the room, shattering walls and revealing the infinite void beyond.
Su Ye felt the force ripple through his arms, the weight behind the figure's blade as cold and crushing as a glacier. His feet dug into the fractured floor, holding firm against the overwhelming pressure. With a deft twist, his dagger slashed across the figure's arm, carving a clean line.
But no blood spilled. The severed limb melted like wax, its substance dripping before rapidly regenerating, larger and more grotesque than before.
Su Ye's brows furrowed, but his movements didn't falter. His blades blurred as he unleashed a torrent of attacks, each strike calculated to maximize destruction. The air screamed under the force of his blows, the room trembling with every impact.
Yet no matter how many times he cut the figure down, it reassembled itself, its form growing ever more monstrous. Its silhouette stretched and twisted, abandoning any semblance of humanity.
The room's temperature plummeted. The encroaching darkness seemed alive, writhing like a living thing as it pressed inward, suffocating and oppressive.
The figure's voice rang out again, its tone dripping with malevolence. "Your struggle is meaningless. You are nothing more than a part of me. You cannot escape."
The words carried a dreadful weight, reverberating through the space. Cracks spread across the ground, and from them seeped thick, inky fog. The fog coiled and expanded, enveloping both Su Ye and his reflection in an impenetrable shroud.
Through the haze, a whisper reached Su Ye's ears. It was faint, yet unmistakable—his own voice, distorted and alien.
"You… do not exist."
Su Ye took a deep breath, his gaze sharp as he scanned the rolling fog around him. The dagger in his hand twirled, its polished blade reflecting the boundless darkness. He didn't continue attacking the figure of "himself." Instead, he turned and dashed deeper into the thick fog, his steps steady and deliberate, each one landing with precision and force, using the ground's rebound to propel himself forward. He knew that brute strength wouldn't solve the problem in this space—escape was the only viable path.
The ground beneath his feet began to change, from solid stone to a treacherous mire that sucked at his boots with a sticky, wet squelch, as if a mixture of blood and sand lay beneath. Su Ye didn't slow down, his eyes locked on a faint light flickering in the distance. He was certain it was an exit—or at least a way forward. With his left hand, he quickly retrieved a small device from his belt, pulled the pin, and hurled it behind him. The ensuing explosion tore through the suffocating fog with a blinding flash, momentarily exposing the gray, brittle edges of the space. Using the force of the blast, Su Ye launched himself forward, breaking free from the oppressive presence of his "other self."
The moment he breached the light, the oppressive fog vanished, replaced by a lush, verdant forest. Beneath his feet, the earth was soft with damp soil and scattered leaves. Overhead, a canopy of towering trees filtered the sunlight into warm, dappled patterns. Su Ye came to a halt, his dagger slightly raised, his posture guarded. He surveyed the area—quiet, almost serene—save for the rustling of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.
He began moving along a faintly visible trail, his pace measured, his ears attuned to the slightest sound. But everything remained unnervingly ordinary. He passed a fallen log blanketed in moss, where tiny insects scurried about, and even saw a butterfly lazily flit past. From a nearby thicket, the rustle of small animals reached his ears, and a brown rabbit bounded across his path without fear.
Lowering his dagger slightly, Su Ye didn't relax but also didn't act rashly. His steps remained light and deliberate as he continued down the trail, taking in every detail—the shape of the trees, the veins on the leaves, the texture of the ground. The air was moist, rich with the scent of earth, a stark contrast to the otherworldly space he had just escaped. The scene was so vivid, so authentic, it could almost convince him this was a real forest rather than another illusion.
After about twenty minutes of walking, he reached a clear, bubbling stream. The water was pristine, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds above. Kneeling by the bank, Su Ye dipped a finger into the stream, letting the cool water run across the blade of his dagger. The liquid was clean—no poison, no corrosive properties—just fresh, sweet water. Rising, he kept his guard up and began following the stream's flow.
As he moved, the forest's tranquility persisted. A bird perched on a nearby branch, its plumage bright as it pecked at a worm in its beak. The bird's movements were natural, seamless, indistinguishable from any real creature. Su Ye rapped the back of his hand lightly against his dagger, producing a crisp metallic ring. The bird didn't react, merely fluttering to a higher branch. Frowning slightly, he continued forward.
Eventually, he came upon a clearing filled with wildflowers. The petals glistened faintly under the sunlight, as if coated in a delicate layer of wax. Su Ye stopped, his gaze sweeping across the blossoms. A few of them bore tiny, uneven notches along their edges, as if something had nibbled at them. Crouching, he picked up a fallen petal with the tip of his dagger and rolled it between his fingers. It was soft and carried a faint, pleasant fragrance. Tossing it aside, he straightened and moved past the flowerbeds.
The deeper he ventured, the sparser the trees became. Grass thinned out, giving way to patches of bare earth. The sunlight, no longer obstructed, illuminated the ground in fractured patterns. Everything was so painfully realistic, so tangible, that unease began to creep in. Su Ye halted abruptly, his dagger instinctively lifting as his eyes fixed on a small clearing ahead.
At the center of the clearing stood a modest wooden cabin. The exterior was weathered, the walls marked with age and overgrown with vines. The windows were partially ajar, and a stone path lined with low shrubs led to the front door. Despite its aged appearance, the cabin exuded a quiet, almost inviting aura, as though it had been frozen in time.
Su Ye didn't approach immediately. He observed from a distance, taking in every detail before advancing with measured steps. His dagger remained poised, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
The door was unlocked. With a gentle push, it creaked open, the sound low and mournful. Inside, dim light revealed a sparse yet homely interior. A wooden table sat at the center, flanked by a single rocking chair. In the corner, an old-fashioned hearth was neatly stacked with dry logs, seemingly ready to be lit. Su Ye paused at the threshold, scanning the room for any signs of danger.
The air inside was clean, carrying a faint scent of wood, as if the cabin had been freshly tended. He stepped inside cautiously, his eyes sweeping over the furniture. The surface of the table was smooth, polished from years of use. The rocking chair swayed slightly, as though someone had just risen from it, though the room was otherwise empty.
Crossing to the hearth, he crouched to inspect the logs. Among the neatly arranged firewood, he noticed a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it, he found a drawing—a silhouette of a figure, back turned to the viewer, standing amidst a forest, a blade gripped tightly in one hand.
Su Ye stared at the drawing, his fingers pressing lightly to smooth out the creases. His gaze lingered on the vague figure in the picture—simple lines, yet imbued with an unsettling familiarity. Folding the paper carefully, he tucked it into his pocket, then stood and gave the neatly stacked firewood in the hearth one last glance. His eyes swept over the cabin's interior once more. Finding nothing else of note, he walked to the window, pushing open the half-shut frame. A cool breeze flowed in, carrying the damp scent of grass and trees.
Outside, the forest remained tranquil. Leaves swayed gently in the wind, casting shifting shadows across the ground as sunlight filtered through the canopy. Su Ye rested his dagger against the window frame, tapping it lightly twice. The sharp, metallic sound cut through the quiet, but no echo answered. He turned from the window, his expression unchanged, and moved back to the center of the room. Rolling his sleeve slightly, he slid the dagger back into its sheath at his waist, then headed for the door.
As he stepped outside, Su Ye instinctively glanced back. The wooden door had shut itself again, as if it had never been opened. He lingered for a few seconds before continuing down the stone path, his steps steady and deliberate. The forest stretched out before him, serene as ever. Occasionally, birds flitted overhead, their calls crisp and clear. The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot blended seamlessly with the distant murmur of a stream, forming a tranquil soundscape.
The trail ahead gradually narrowed, the stone slabs beneath his feet overgrown with weeds. Su Ye found himself stepping over roots and patches of exposed soil as the forest began to thin. Sunlight poured through the widening gaps in the canopy, casting long, solitary shadows behind him. From time to time, he paused, scanning his surroundings for any sign of danger before resuming his journey.
It was unclear how much time had passed when the sound of rushing water reached his ears. Louder than the gentle stream from before, it hinted at a larger river. Su Ye followed the sound until he arrived at a broad, fast-flowing current. The river sparkled under the sun, its surface flecked with golden light. Tall reeds lined the banks, their tops swaying and rustling softly in the breeze. Kneeling by the water's edge, he scooped up a handful, letting it trickle through his fingers. The water was cold and clear, carrying fine grains of sand that glittered faintly. Looking up, his eyes fixed on the opposite bank—a sparser forest, its darker hues suggesting a wilderness untouched by human presence.
Rising to his feet, Su Ye surveyed the riverbank. No bridge, no fordable shallows. He tightened the straps of his pack, securing it firmly before slinging it across his waist. Satisfied that nothing would come loose, he drew his dagger and stepped into the river.
The icy water surged against his legs, climbing past his knees with a powerful current. Each step was a test of balance as the stones beneath his feet were slick and unstable. Su Ye adjusted his stance carefully, distributing his weight to avoid slipping. His left hand shielded the pack at his side while his right hand kept the dagger poised in a defensive grip.
The center of the river was the most treacherous. The water rose to his waist, its relentless force threatening to sweep him away. He pressed on, his gaze not on the churning surface but fixed on the opposite bank, scanning for any sign of movement. His instincts remained sharp, even in the midst of nature's chaos.
At last, his boots found solid ground on the far side. The current receded as he climbed onto the muddy bank, water streaming from his soaked clothes. Su Ye paused to check his pack, ensuring it remained dry, before slinging it over his shoulder once more. The landscape here was harsher, more desolate. The trees were sparse, their bare branches casting jagged shadows on a carpet of decaying leaves. Small animal tracks dotted the ground, hinting at unseen inhabitants.
He continued along the riverbank, his pace unbroken. The quiet was almost oppressive, punctuated only by the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle of grass in the breeze. The sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with soft hues of orange and red. Su Ye stopped briefly, tilting his head to study the fading light before turning toward a nearby hill.
Climbing the slope, he reached its crest and surveyed the landscape. In the distance, at the forest's edge, lay an open meadow. At its center stood a solitary structure—a small stone house. Without hesitation, Su Ye descended the hill and made his way across the grassland.
As he approached, the stone house came into sharper focus. Its roof was thatched with dried reeds, its walls overgrown with moss. The door hung slightly ajar, a wind chime dangling from the frame. The chime swayed in the breeze, its clear tones resonating softly. Su Ye stopped at the threshold, peering into the dim interior before stepping inside.
The house was starkly simple. A stone table stood at its center, surrounded by a few stone stools. In one corner lay a neatly stacked pile of firewood, and the walls were adorned with old picture frames. The images within were faded, their details lost to time. Su Ye approached the table, running his fingers over its rough surface, then turned his attention to the walls.
The framed images depicted scenes of the forest—familiar corners, perhaps, though aged and weathered like memories of a distant past. Each carried an air of quiet melancholy, as though they captured moments long forgotten.
Su Ye lingered in the center of the room, silent and contemplative, before finally turning to leave. Crossing the meadow, he continued toward the horizon. The wind whispered through the tall grass, sunlight dappling the ground in its golden glow.
The forest stretched endlessly behind the stone house, sunlight filtering through the sparse canopy and casting a golden glow over the carpet of fallen leaves. Su Ye continued along a faint trail, his steps steady and his sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings. He never relaxed his vigilance, even though the serenity around him felt almost unnaturally undisturbed, as if this place had never known chaos.
Faint voices reached his ears, prompting him to pause momentarily before turning toward the sound.
Minutes later, he emerged into a clearing and found himself standing before a small village. The settlement was enclosed by a simple wooden fence, inside which fruit trees and vegetable plots were neatly arranged. Wooden houses stood in orderly rows on the open ground, thin trails of smoke curling upward from their chimneys. The air carried the aroma of firewood mingled with the faint scent of freshly baked bread.
The villagers seemed oblivious to his presence, each absorbed in their tasks. Some ground grain at a stone mill outside their homes, others washed clothes by a nearby stream, while a group of children chased each other in the distance, their laughter crisp and carefree.
Standing just outside the fence, Su Ye watched silently, his expression unreadable. The scene before him resembled an idyllic painting, untouched by strife. A middle-aged man noticed him and set down his hoe, approaching the fence with a friendly smile. His voice was deep and steady. "Who are you? Where are you from?" Though his tone was curious, his gaze held a hint of caution.
"Su Ye," he replied, his voice as curt and cold as ever.
The man hesitated briefly before nodding. "We don't often see outsiders. Are you lost, or are you looking for something?"
Su Ye didn't answer, his eyes drifting briefly to the activity within the village. The man didn't press further, instead gesturing toward the village with a casual wave. "Come in. Since you're here, take a rest before moving on. We don't get many visitors, but there's always hot water and food to share."
Su Ye did not refuse. Stepping over the fence, he entered the village. His gaze swept quickly across the people and surroundings, ensuring nothing was amiss, before following the man toward the village center. The children had paused their play to stare curiously at him.
"Are you from the city, sir?" a little girl asked timidly, her voice filled with innocent wonder.
Su Ye didn't respond, merely glancing at her. Her face was ordinary, devoid of anything unusual.
The man led him to a spacious wooden house and pushed the door open. Inside, the furnishings were simple: a wooden table, a few chairs, and a blazing fireplace. The man picked up a clay jug from the table, pouring a cup of hot water and handing it to Su Ye. "Have some water. You must've been walking for a while."
Su Ye accepted the cup but didn't drink. Instead, he stood silently, his eyes scanning every corner of the room, ensuring nothing was out of place.
Noticing his cold demeanor, the man chuckled lightly. "Relax. This is a safe place—no wild beasts, no bad people." His voice was calm, his attitude unguarded and sincere.
A short while later, an older woman entered, carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. The warm, rich aroma filled the room. She paused briefly upon seeing Su Ye but soon offered a kind smile. "A guest, is it? Here, try this. It just came out of the oven."
She placed the bread on the table and handed him a piece. Su Ye took it, glancing down at the golden-brown crust, still warm and fragrant with the scent of wheat.
He set the bread aside without eating it, his vigilance unshaken. The two villagers seemed unbothered by his aloofness and went about their tasks. After some time, voices from outside called for the man.
"I'll check on the children," he said, stepping out of the house and leaving Su Ye alone.
The room fell quiet, save for the faint crackle of the firewood and the occasional whistle of the wind. Su Ye sat down, his gaze landing on the untouched bread before sweeping across the room. His attention fixed on a painting hanging on the wall.
It depicted a pastoral scene, its style reminiscent of the artwork he had seen in the stone house earlier. The village in the painting was nearly identical to the one he was in now. Rising from his seat, he approached the painting, studying its details closely. The figures within were indistinct, but the houses, trees, and fences were an exact match to the surroundings outside.
Footsteps sounded at the door as the man returned, a smile on his face. "The kids are fine—just chasing butterflies," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. His gaze shifted to Su Ye. "You should stay the night. It's getting late, and the forest isn't safe after dark."
Su Ye remained silent for a moment before nodding slightly. His eyes lingered on the man's face, his expression impassive. Yet his instincts warned him that this place, despite its outward tranquility, was far from ordinary.