Silence.
Even the collapse of the Fourth Layer had vanished without a trace.
Yan Zhi found himself in a void without sky, without earth. His feet pressed against something solid—yet when he looked down, there was nothing. It was as though he stood on the absence of existence itself.
Blood still dripped from his wounds, but each drop disappeared before hitting any surface. No echo. No shadow. Nothing.
And that nothing pressed heavier on his chest than any whisper ever had.
Ahead, something began to form. At first, a smear of black mist. Then it took shape—an immense gate, rising into darkness beyond sight. No carvings. No symbols. Just a smooth, lightless surface. A gate without a face.
Yan Zhi stepped closer. Each pace dragged against invisible resistance, as though the void itself resented his movement. His heartbeat thundered—not from facing an enemy, but from not knowing what awaited beyond.
Then he noticed.
His shadow was gone.
His hand trembled. "So… even my shadow refuses to follow?"
The gate shivered, exhaling a sound like the breath of some ancient beast. A thin crack of light appeared down its center, widening slowly.
The whispers that had haunted him through every layer were silent now.
And yet, in that silence, Yan Zhi felt it—
This gate had been waiting for him all along.
Holding his breath, he stood before the widening gap.
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