The woman before him did not move, her form a statue of stillness. Ling Li felt a chill crawl up his spine as the air around them seemed to thicken, pressing in like an invisible weight. He stood at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether the ground beneath him was solid or not. The mountain trembled again, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to come from deep within the earth, as though the very world was alive, watching him.
"Your journey has only begun," the woman said, her voice no longer soft, but commanding. Her eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, cold and indifferent, yet filled with knowing. "You seek answers, but answers are rarely what they seem. The truth you seek is layered beneath illusions—layer upon layer, each one more dangerous than the last."
Ling Li swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. "Illusions? What do you mean?"
The woman's veil fluttered in a breeze that came from nowhere, revealing only a glimpse of her face, pale as moonlight, but her eyes—her eyes were like empty voids, drawing in all light, swallowing everything in their wake. "Everything you see, everything you believe to be real, is a veil, a shadow cast by the forces beyond your comprehension. Even now, you stand within a memory—trapped, as I was once trapped."
"Trapped?" Ling Li repeated, confusion clouding his thoughts. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
"I was once like you," the woman whispered, her voice dropping to a haunting whisper. "Seeking the same thing you seek—answers. But there are no answers here, only more questions. The past is never truly gone, and the future... the future is already written."
Ling Li stepped back, his pulse quickening. The air around him seemed to distort, the mountain landscape flickering like an old, worn-out painting, as if reality itself was shattering. The world twisted, turning upside down, and the ground below him trembled once again.
"You cannot escape," the woman intoned, her voice louder now, each word reverberating in the air like the tolling of a bell. "The trial you face is not just of the mind, but of the soul. It is a test of your very essence, your will to survive the endless layers of fate that bind you."
Ling Li clenched his fists, his mind racing. "I won't let it break me."
The woman's lips curled into a thin, mirthless smile. "It already has, Ling Li. It already has."
Before he could react, the ground beneath him crumbled, and Ling Li plunged into darkness, falling through the void as if his body was weightless. Time itself seemed to stretch, bending and warping as his mind struggled to make sense of the disorienting sensation.
When the darkness faded, he found himself standing once more, but in a place that felt... wrong. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood, and the distant echoes of laughter filled the air, but it wasn't a joyous sound. It was hollow, empty, and echoing from a past long dead.
Ling Li blinked, and his surroundings shifted again. He stood in a familiar village—his village. The houses were whole, the streets clean, and the people walked by without a care in the world. But something was off. The faces were unfamiliar, their eyes glazed, as if they were little more than shadows of themselves.
Then he saw the woman again, standing in the center of the village square, her eyes locked onto him. "Do you remember this place?" she asked.
Ling Li felt his throat tighten. This was not his village. Not truly. He had seen it in his memories, the ruins, the blood, the faces of those lost to time. This was an illusion, a mockery of his past. But it was also a reminder of what had been taken from him.
"I remember," he said, his voice low, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "But it's not real."
"Is it?" The woman's gaze softened, though the void in her eyes never wavered. "How can you be sure? Memory is as much a part of the present as it is the past. Time is a cage, and we are all prisoners of it."
Ling Li shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "I won't be a prisoner. Not to time. Not to fate."
The woman smiled again, that same cold, empty smile. "You think you can escape it? No one escapes the chains of destiny, not even you."
Suddenly, the world around him shattered, and the village dissolved into mist, fading into the distance. Ling Li stumbled forward, his heart racing. The landscape was now a vast, empty expanse—an endless desert stretching out before him.
But then, a figure appeared in the distance, barely a silhouette at first, but growing clearer as it approached. It was Art, the man whose past he was trapped in, his features twisted in agony, his movements jerky and unnatural.
"You can still save me," Art's voice echoed, but it wasn't his voice. It was a distorted version, filled with despair. "You can still change it. But you have to choose. Choose now. The past... the future... they are both in your hands."
Ling Li took a step forward, his body moving against his will, drawn to the figure like a moth to a flame. Art's eyes locked onto him, filled with a hollow, desperate plea.
But as he reached out to touch Art's shoulder, the illusion fractured again, the image of Art dissolving into smoke and ash. The landscape twisted once more, and the woman's voice rang out from all directions.
"You cannot save him. He is already lost. He was lost before you even began."
Ling Li's breath caught in his throat. His mind swirled with conflicting thoughts, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Was this all meaningless? Was Art's tragic end inevitable?
The woman's voice softened, almost pitying. "You think you can change the past, but you cannot. Fate has already decided. All you can do is accept it."
"No," Ling Li whispered, his voice trembling with determination. "I won't accept it. I will find another way."
The world around him began to collapse again, but this time, Ling Li stood firm. The illusion of the past—the illusion of fate—was crumbling, and for the first time, he felt the weight of his own will pushing back against the crushing force of destiny.
"I will not let it control me. Not this time."
As the world shattered around him, Ling Li's resolve grew stronger. He wasn't just fighting to change the past. He was fighting to carve a path of his own, a path that would not be dictated by the chains of fate.
And in that moment, for the first time, he felt the faintest glimmer of hope.