With each step, the scenery around him began to shift. Shadows danced on the periphery of his vision, and whispers echoed in the air. He focused on grounding himself, recalling the techniques the pendant had revealed to him, but the illusions persisted. Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by figures from his past—familiar faces twisted by disdain and ridicule.
"Shenlong, the prodigy?" one sneered. "You were nothing more than a fleeting flame, extinguished before it could shine."
He recognized the voice; it belonged to a former friend who had abandoned him when his cultivation stagnated. Another illusion emerged, showing his former fiancée, her expression cold and scornful. "I thought you were meant for greatness," she mocked. "I was mistaken. You're just… trash."
These illusions, although unreal, stirred the bitterness he had buried deep within him. But Shenlong clenched his fists, focusing on his resolve. He would not allow his past to dictate his future. In a firm voice, he declared, "I am no longer bound by what you think of me."
With those words, his aura flared, dispelling the illusions around him. The mist lifted, revealing the trail once more. Shenlong took a steady breath, feeling a renewed sense of peace. He had overcome the doubts cast by his past; now, he was free to create his own path.