The gate opened by the Crimson Nemean was not a true passage—but a boundless sea of mist. The moment Xiao Chen stepped into the Illusion Realm, the world spun. The scenery around him shifted abruptly, falling into a stillness as serene as water. Only a low, resonant voice echoed through the air:
"Those who forge the body temper bone and sinew; those who forge the heart temper thought and soul. To endure pain of the flesh does not mean one can survive the trial of the heart."
The fire behind him vanished in an instant. All that remained was the churning white mist—so bright it stung the eyes, so silent it gnawed at the mind. He tried to extend his spiritual sense outward, but it was like a drop of water vanishing into the ocean—no response.
There was no path beneath his feet, yet an invisible force kept urging him forward. He walked on, not knowing how long, until the mist began to thin. In its place emerged a dim, silent world. Gray-white fog rose from the ground like tides, and within its haze, the outline of an ancient city began to take shape—crumbling walls, broken towers, and faint lanterns flickering like dying embers. Not a sound could be heard.
He looked up and saw two lines carved into the trial stone wall—weathered, yet clear. As if left behind by someone who had passed through before. As if spoken directly to his heart:
"Those who forge the body temper bone and sinew; those who forge the heart temper thought and soul."
"To endure pain of the flesh does not mean one can survive the trial of the heart."
Xiao Chen's brow furrowed. Just as he was about to move forward, a row of mirrors appeared out of thin air. Each mirror floated unsteadily, spinning at different speeds. Within them, he saw reflections of himself—at different moments in time: confused, weak, indifferent… and even consumed by murderous rage.
He looked up, and the mist revealed a scene from his earlier dream trial—when he had lost control. In that moment, he had plunged into grief and fury, the life-mark on his hand erupting, his breath in chaos, eyes glowing red like blood. He had looked more like a demon than a man.
In one mirror, his eyes were filled with blood. He cradled the lifeless body of a woman in white, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.
His body shuddered.
That was… the version of himself he least wanted to remember.
A memory from five years ago surfaced: his first attempt at cultivating the Fate Seal. His breath had turned chaotic, and he nearly lost control. Had it not been for Suan Wu Yi's timely intervention, he might have been lost forever. When he awoke, his master said only one thing:
"One who can kill the enemy… can also kill himself. Remember—your heart is the gate to the seal."
In that moment, he saw himself at his weakest, most broken—on the verge of collapse. It was a shadow he had long tried to suppress, yet could never truly escape.
This place…
It dragged out the parts of you you least wished to face—and held them up for you to see.
The mirror images gradually faded, leaving only one figure formed from mist at the center—like smoke drifting beneath the moon.
A woman in white stepped forth from the fog. Her steps were light and silent, her robes fluttering like clouds, her long hair cascading like a waterfall. She lowered her gaze to Xiao Chen, lips curved in a faint smile. But her eyes… were like a frozen lake of a thousand years—gentle, yet enough to make the heart tremble.
Xiao Chen froze, staring at her.
His heart tightened.
Familiar.
Far too familiar.
He had never known her name.
Never heard her voice.
Yet the feeling she stirred in him—
Was like a dream that had haunted his soul for years.
"…Who are you?" he asked softly, voice trembling.
The woman did not answer. She simply reached out, as if to brush away the damp strand of hair clinging to his forehead. Her fingertips carried a faint, delicate fragrance. Just as she was about to touch him, her hand paused. Her gaze grew distant, and a flicker of misty light shimmered in her eyes—like a gentle, hypnotic glow, deep and lulling, drawing one into its depths.
At that moment, the space around them seemed to tear apart—
"Run… If you run, it won't hurt…"
"It's all a lie. You can't change anything…"
"Be like us. Give up… heeheehee…"
Countless whispers rose from the mist—hoarse like cracked bark, yet also like the giggles of children.
These were no illusions.
They were the lingering souls of those who had once entered the Illusion Realm and failed its trial. Some were bound by unresolved obsessions. Some lost themselves in the mirage. Some could not bear the pain of heart-forging—and died, their souls shattered, trapped here forever.
Their memories and emotions had twisted into whispers of resentment, trying to drag newcomers into the same abyss.
Xiao Chen turned sharply—only to see shadows around him teeming with ghostly remnants. Some were charred black, some headless and broken, some with pale, lifeless eyes and blood still fresh at their lips. They circled him—some curled up and weeping, some violently shaking their heads, others screaming with torn throats:
"Give up! This path has no end—!"
The voices pierced like a thousand ants burrowing into his heart, tearing at his ears. Xiao Chen's brow furrowed, but his gaze remained locked on the woman before him.
She was still there.
She asked softly,
"Are you looking for me?"
"I… I think I am," Xiao Chen replied in a low voice.
"But you've already forgotten me, haven't you?"
Her eyes shimmered with mist, as if on the verge of tears.
"Then… are you still willing to remember me? Even if it hurts?"
Her words, gentle as water, wrapped around his heart.
And yet—he hesitated.
Confusion surged within him.
Who was she?
Why did she feel so familiar?
His steps faltered.
His eyes betrayed his doubt.
She suddenly turned away.
Her voice, once soft as flowing spring water, now cracked like ice splitting stone—cold and resolute:
"You lose control… because you're afraid, don't you?"
Boom!
A flash of light exploded in the mist.
Countless mirrors reappeared, encircling him once more.
The woman in white drifted away, her figure merging with the shattered reflections.
And in that moment—
The whispers of the dead still echoed in his ears.
The illusions continued to lure him…
Toward surrender.
And Xiao Chen—
Closed his eyes tightly.
A low sound rumbled from his throat, as if answering something unseen.
"…I will remember."
The moment he spoke those words, the entire Illusion Realm trembled.
Boom—!
The mirrors cracked.
Fractures spread like spiderwebs.
The ground itself began to quake, as if awakening.
The ghostly shadows around him let out piercing shrieks and twisted laughter, enraged by his resolve, surging forward to devour him.
The woman in white blurred for an instant.
When she reappeared—her aura had changed completely.
Her eyes were hollow.
Her figure swayed.
Her voice turned sorrowful:
"…Since you refuse to turn back, then let me show you—the price of remembering."
Behind her, the mist surged.
Countless reflections morphed into fragments of the past:
—A child falling, with no one to help him up.
—A lifetime where he was betrayed by friends, scorned by his sect.
—And even—
A moment in another life, where he watched himself kill a woman who looked exactly like her.
"That's not me…"
Xiao Chen whispered, his brows furrowed, fists clenched.
"Not you?"
Her voice turned cold.
"Then why does it hurt? Why did you forget? Why can't you let go?"
The words struck like a hammer to the heart.
His pupils contracted.
He staggered.
Boom!
Black flames erupted across the realm.
The shadows were consumed—but not destroyed.
Instead, they reformed into enemies—each one bearing his own face.
Every phantom spoke:
"You can't protect her—"
"You'll only let her die again… and again!"
Xiao Chen lunged forward.
His fists met the illusions.
The flames seared his skin—pain like tearing flesh.
It was real.
Undeniable.
Unavoidable.
He didn't retreat.
He didn't scream.
He struck.
Dodged.
Grit his teeth and fought back.
He was battling himself.
Every punch was a denial of weakness.
Every time he rose again was a testament to his will.
At last—
When he defeated the final phantom, the black flames vanished.
The space began to stabilize.
The mist cleared.
The woman in white appeared once more.
She looked at him.
Her gaze was no longer hollow.
It held something new—
A softness never seen before.
"…So you truly remember… what your 'heart' looks like."
As the words faded, he reached out—
But touched only a gentle breeze.
Her figure dissolved into a thread of white light, softly merging into his chest.
The sensation was neither illusion nor dream—
It felt like a long-buried will, quietly returning, resonating with his soul.
He didn't know if it was memory—
Or fate reminding him:
The past had never truly left.
It was simply waiting… to be drawn forth again.
A golden seal appeared at the center of his brow—
Ancient, radiant, like starlight converging,
Or chains being undone.
His aura surged.
It felt as if his soul had awakened for the first time.
This was the Proof Seal of passing the Heart-Forging Illusion Realm.
The voice of the Tower's guide echoed once more, distant and vast:
"Well done, boy. You've finally stepped out of your own shadow.
The next trial… is where the true journey begins."
Xiao Chen stood quietly, eyes closed.
That one sentence echoed in his heart—
"If I remember… then I won't let her fall again."
And in that moment,
A tremor stirred within him—
A feeling unlike any he had known before.
He didn't know who she was.
But he knew—
She was not merely a phantom.
Her presence was too real.
Too familiar.
Like something from a past…
That had yet to be fulfilled.