Void Cultivation

Chapter 281 280

Grey was raptly focused when he suddenly heard the clear sound of a droplet of water falling into a vast pool.

The moment the sound reached his ears, his entire body stiffened as if it had been frozen in place.

The world before his eyes suddenly darkened.

When his vision returned, the surroundings had completely changed.

What appeared before him was an enormous pool of still water. Its surface was calm and silent, stretching endlessly in every direction. The water was so dark and deep that its bottom could not be seen.

A single droplet of water slowly fell from the unseen darkness above.

Plop.

The droplet landed in the center of the pool, creating ripples that spread across the surface in widening circles.

In that instant, Grey felt a strange and indescribable sensation. It was as if his consciousness had sunk into the water itself.

It felt as though he was inside the pool.

The ripples continued to expand outward, spreading farther and farther across the dark surface. Each wave carried an invisible resonance that seemed to shake the very fabric of the world.

Then, from somewhere beyond the darkness, Grey heard an old and aged voice speak softly.

"The realm of heaven and art can be likened to a pool…"

The voice was ancient and distant, yet it echoed clearly in Grey's mind.

The moment the words rang out, Grey felt the darkness around him shift.

His vision suddenly brightened.

Before him appeared a massive red stone chair that extended far into the distance. The chair was unimaginably long and wide, stretching so far that its end could not be seen. It seemed less like a chair and more like a crimson pathway leading into infinity.

Another droplet of water fell.

Plop.

The surface of the pool rippled again.

As the ripples spread across the water, Grey saw something reflected within it.

The reflection was of… himself.

Through the reflection, Grey saw a figure sitting on the endless stone chair.

The figure's back was bent, and his long hair hung down, completely covering his detached and expressionless face. A crown of thorns rested upon his head, its sharp spikes piercing into his flesh. Thin streams of blood slowly dripped down from his forehead.

Each droplet of blood fell into the pool below.

And every drop created ripples that spread across the water.

That blood was the source of the disturbances within the pool.

At first glance, the details were subtle and difficult to notice. But because Grey was viewing the scene from below the water's surface, he could clearly see the figure's face through the rippling reflection.

It was him.

Countless chains extended from the long stone chair and wrapped tightly around Grey's body, binding him firmly in place. His arms, torso, and legs were restrained by the rusted chains.

Most of his body was submerged in the dark pool.

From beneath the water, thick black fog slowly seeped out from his body and spread through the surrounding water like ink dissolving in the depths.

The eerie mist twisted and drifted silently.

Then the ancient voice spoke again.

"The realm of heaven and earth can be likened to a pool… Cultivators are only a single droplet within that pool…"

As the words echoed through the strange world, something appeared behind the bound Grey.

A figure slowly emerged from the darkness.

It was a corpse clad in rotting golden armor.

The armor had once been magnificent, but now it was covered in cracks, rust, and dried blood. Its golden surface was tarnished and broken, as if it had endured countless ages of decay.

The figure had long hair that flowed down its back like strands of lifeless silk.

Upon its head was also a crown of thorns.

But unlike Grey's crown, there was a bloody hole in the center of the corpse's forehead.

The wound was deep and dark, as if something had once been violently driven through its skull.

Its skin was pale like that of a corpse that had long since lost all warmth of life. From its body emanated a powerful stench of death and decay.

Black fog slowly seeped out from the corpse's armor and spread across the surroundings.

The atmosphere became suffocating.

Behind Grey, the corpse slowly raised its arms.

In one hand, it held a chisel.

In the other hand, it held a heavy sledgehammer.

Both tools were stained with dried blood and bore the marks of countless years. Rust clung to their surfaces, and faint cracks ran along the metal as if they had been used endlessly throughout the ages.

The corpse slowly stepped forward without hesitation. Its movements were slow and deliberate, as if repeating a ceremony it had performed countless times before.

Without hesitation, it placed the tip of the chisel against the center of Grey's forehead.

Grey could not move. He could not resist. Even his thoughts seemed to have frozen in that moment.

The corpse then slowly raised the sledgehammer.

It did not appear to use much strength.

Yet at that moment, Grey felt a terrifying sensation.

It was as if the entire world itself was assisting the corpse in delivering the strike.

As if heaven and earth were lending their power to that single motion.

But right before the hammer fell, the ancient voice spoke again, heavier than before.

"Sorrow stains the soul…"

The corpse raised the hammer.

"Sin chains the throne…"

The chisel pressed against Grey's forehead.

"And upon thy tainted sorrow…"

The hammer descended.

"The crown is forged."

Then the hammer fell.

BANG!

The deafening sound echoed like thunder across the void.

At that instant, it felt as though the entire world had been shattered by that single strike. It was not merely a strike.

It was as if heaven itself had agreed to the ritual.

Cracks spread across the scene before Grey like broken glass.

The endless chair fractured.

The pool of water shattered.

The ripples froze.

Everything collapsed.

The entire world suddenly broke apart into countless fragments.

Grey suddenly felt an intense pain erupt in his forehead.

It was as if a burning nail had been driven straight into his skull.

His vision blurred violently before suddenly clearing again, and he found himself sitting cross-legged in front of the ancient stone slab.

Perspiration covered his entire face, dripping slowly down his chin. His clothes were completely drenched in sweat, clinging tightly to his body as if he had just been pulled out of water.

Before him, the old man stood silently, watching Grey with a solemn and unreadable expression.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Grey opened his mouth, intending to say something.

But before even a single word could leave his lips, the old man suddenly moved.

His figure blurred.

In the next instant, Grey felt a powerful force grab his arm and pull him violently into the darkness behind them.

Everything happened so fast that Grey couldn't even react.

In truth, he was so exhausted and shaken that even if he had wanted to resist, he probably wouldn't have been able to move.

The moment they disappeared into the darkness, the ancient stone slab behind them suddenly cracked.

'Crack.'

A thin fracture appeared across its rough surface.

Then another. After some time, another fracture appeared and snaked across the whole surface of the slab.

Within seconds, the entire slab began to crumble as if something inside it had finally awakened.

An ancient and indescribable aura erupted from the stone, heavy and oppressive, carrying the weight of countless years.

CRACK!

The slab suddenly shattered apart, collapsing into countless broken pieces that scattered across the ground, it revealed a single item that was hidden within.

Meanwhile, deep within the darkness, the old man continued pulling Grey forward without saying a single word.

Grey couldn't see anything around him.

All directions were swallowed by endless darkness.

Yet strangely, he could still feel things moving within it.

Countless thin threads suddenly appeared around him.

They brushed lightly against his body before gently wrapping around him and pulling him forward, guiding him behind the old man.

Each thread emitted a terrifying aura.

Grey could clearly feel it.

Even a single one of these threads possessed enough killing power to instantly tear apart a cultivator at the Spirit Core Formation Realm.

And yet, when they touched him, they behaved with surprising gentleness.

They did not cut him.

They did not pierce him.

They simply guided him forward.

Still, the faint brush of those threads against his skin made his entire body tense. His skin prickled with a chilling sensation, as if he were walking through a field of invisible blades.

After several seconds, Grey slowly recovered from his stunned state.

Memories of what he had just experienced suddenly flooded back into his mind.

His face immediately turned pale.

'The corpse in the golden armor… and the chisel it drove into my head…'

Grey's heart trembled.

It was so real.

'No… everything about that dream was real. From the eerie atmosphere to the stone chair.'

He subconsciously reached up and touched his forehead.

His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against his skin.

After feeling nothing but smooth flesh, he finally let out a quiet breath of relief.

There was no wound, neither was there any hole or blood.

But the pain he had felt earlier still lingered faintly in his mind, as if the memory itself refused to fade.

After what felt like a long time, the darkness in front of them finally began to brighten.

The countless threads around Grey suddenly surged violently.

Before he could react, they pulled him forward with tremendous force.

In the next instant, Grey was thrown into an endless space of black and white.

He landed heavily on the ground.

For a moment, he simply lay there, staring upward in shock.

Above him, the sky was completely white.

Not cloudy.

Not bright like the sun.

Just pure, endless white.

It looked like a massive blank canvas, stretching infinitely in every direction.

The ground and the surrounding plants, however, were the exact opposite.

They were completely black.

Pitch black.

As if all color had been drained from them.

The strange contrast between the white sky and the black earth created an eerie yet strangely beautiful scene.

Grey slowly sat up, looking around in disbelief.

He couldn't help but feel as if he had stepped into an entirely different world.

Behind him, the black threads that had dragged him here suddenly loosened their grip.

They gently lowered him onto the ground before rapidly surging backward.

In the blink of an eye, all of them shot into the old man's body and disappeared without leaving a single trace.

The old man stood quietly a few steps away, his back facing Grey.

For a moment, the space between them was silent.

Then the old man slowly turned around.

His gaze landed on Grey, and his eyes became unusually serious.

"What did you say your name was again, little friend?"

Grey hesitated.

Something about the old man's tone made him feel slightly uneasy.

But after a brief moment, he still answered.

"...Grey Reynolds."

When the old man heard this, he slowly nodded to himself, as if confirming something in his mind.

For a while, he said nothing.

Then he asked another question.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Grey's expression became cautious.

But he still nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Seeing this, the old man let out a long sigh.

It was not a sigh of annoyance.

It was a sigh filled with deep emotion.

"Do you know how long you have been comprehending that art?"

Grey frowned slightly.

He shook his head.

Seeing his confusion, the old man sighed once more.

This time, the sigh was even heavier than before.

He looked at Grey with a complicated expression before finally speaking.

"Well, Grey..."

"You have been comprehending that art for three entire days."

Grey's eyes widened slightly.

Before he could say anything, the old man continued.

"And it seems..."

The old man's gaze became extremely deep.

"...that you have succeeded."