It wasn’t real wind, but the sharp, ear-splitting shriek of the air torn by his fall. Lin Yi’s body plummeted like a discarded scrap of cloth, plummeting straight towards the swirling, devouring vortex of grey-silver. The deafening roar of the collapsing formation chased close behind, like the howls of a pack of ravenous beasts. His eyes were shut, his consciousness adrift in the vertigo of freefall and the stinging burn of radiation. Every breath tugged at the broken ribs in his chest, the agony causing his unfocused pupils to constrict and dilate repeatedly. Deep in his soul, only three points of light still flickered weakly, ready to be snuffed out at any moment. His fingers twitched in the void. This minuscule movement pulled at the jagged ends of his ribs, sending a jolt of pain like electricity straight to his brain. He gave up. He gave up trying to control his falling body, gave up resisting the needle-like erosion of the annihilating energy, even gave up maintaining the final, barely-there wisp of metallic-tasting true qi. He spread himself utterly open, like a blood-soaked rag, letting gravity drag him down. But his consciousness, like a dagger thrusting in reverse, stabbed viciously into the deepest recesses of his soul. Not a physical hand, but a trembling tendril condensed from will, reached out amidst the crumbling ruins of his near-dispersed soul, and grasped with precision the most blazing, the most violent point of light. *Boom—!* Not a sound, but an impact more direct than sound—a burning warhammer smashed into his soul. Lin Yi’s spine arched violently, a broken, rasping cry forced from his throat. He tasted blood, the rusty, coppery sweetness seeping between his teeth, flowing down the corner of his mouth, warm and sticky. Shi Meng’s burly back blocked the way before him, muscles knotted like ancient tree roots, steaming with the heat of sweat and blood. The light-spears condensed by the formation pierced the air with a hiss like a venomous snake’s tongue. Shi Meng didn’t look back, only roared, the roar mixed with a coarse, gravelly laugh that made Lin Yi’s eardrums thrum: “Kid, for me…” *Crack.* The crisp sound of shattering bone, like ice cracking underfoot. Lin Yi “saw” Shi Meng’s body being “digested” from within by the power of the rules—flesh, blood, bones, meridians—all turning into motes of pure energy, greedily absorbed by the formation. But those copper-bell eyes, until the moment they completely dissipated, remained fixed dead ahead, fixed on the direction where Lin Yi should have been—the pupils reflected not fear, but a fury that could burn through anything, and an unfinished entrustment. That rough, heroic “charge forward” bought with his life poured into Lin Yi’s riddled soul like scalding magma. Not a physical curling up, but his consciousness instinctively defending itself in the torrent. Too painful. Reliving death wasn’t a memory; it was becoming Shi Meng again, feeling the icy penetration of the light-spear as it stabbed in, feeling the emptiness of his body being disassembled inch by inch into nothingness by the rules, feeling the suffocating frustration and unwillingness of that final, unspoken message choked by blood in his throat. The sound of the falling wind grew sharper, like countless thin blades scraping against his eardrums. The radiation from the annihilating vortex drew closer; the skin on his body stung with a burning sensation, as if countless red-hot needles were pricking him simultaneously. Instead, he used his remaining awareness, like a drowning man clutching driftwood, to seize that torrent of violent will. He no longer resisted the pain, but let it wash over him, using his shattered soul to “catch” everything of Shi Meng’s final moments—the tremor of his roar, the searing heat of his resolve, his unspoken hope, and that clumsy yet scalding “Dao” belonging to a lowly, unaffiliated cultivator. “Brother Shi Meng…” Lin Yi’s soul trembled, issuing a voiceless whisper, each word dredged up from a pool of blood, heavy and weighty. “Your Dao… is to charge forward without hesitation…” He took a deep breath—if a soul could breathe—inhaling the scent of gunpowder smoke mixed with hot blood. The point of light representing Shi Meng no longer radiated searing pain and unwillingness. It settled, sinking to the very bottom of Lin Yi’s soul, transforming into a thick, steady force carrying the scent of earth and rust. Like a stubborn rock tempered in fierce flames, scalding yet solid An extremely faint, cold aura, carrying the scent of aged books and distant sandalwood, ethereal yet terrifyingly clear, lingered deep in his nasal passages. Countless fragmented images flashed before his eyes: threads of fate snapping and reweaving, like a vast, merciless net shimmering with icy metallic light; Yun Zhi's eyes, which saw through everything yet remained gentle, quietly gazing at him as they finally dissipated, her lips silently parting, her exhaled breath carrying the dust of ice crystals. The backlash she endured from peering into the secrets of heaven transformed into cold needles, fine and precise, piercing the most hidden corners of Lin Yi's soul. That pain was not tearing, but infiltration, assimilation—making you sink into the quiet despair of "knowing everything yet being powerless to change," a chill seeping into the very marrow of your bones, making you want to give up the struggle. Lin Yi's mental defenses, having just withstood Shi Meng's violent onslaught, were now as thin as a layer of brittle ice. It was not the dissolution of the flesh, but the erosion of will by that icy quietude, boundaries blurring, self-awareness like ink dripping into a cold pool, slowly spreading, diluting, losing color. The annihilation vortex drew closer, the burning sensation from its radiation intensified, a faint scent of scorched flesh wafted from his skin, mingling with the bone-piercing cold on a soul-deep level. Lin Yi's fingertips—his real fingertips—suddenly clenched violently in the void, nails digging deep into his palms, bringing a sharp, vivid pain. This thread of pain from the flesh, like a rusted iron anchor, temporarily pinned down his consciousness, which was on the verge of scattering and drifting. He released his defenses, letting that icy trickle flow into every crack in his soul that had been scorched by Shi Meng's blazing heat, into those corners frozen by despair. He "felt" Yun Zhi's loneliness—the loneliness of knowing the outcome yet still choosing to help, that quiet courage of trying to weave a thread of hope within the vast net of fate, like a glimpse of the stars from the bottom of a deep well. "Miss Yun..." His thoughts struggled to transmit through the icy current, like bubbles rising from the bottom of a cold pool, faint yet persistent, "Your quietude... is a choice made after seeing through..." Then, an extremely faint, extremely distant thought, as if from the end of time, lightly brushed against his consciousness, like a snowflake landing on his brow. Lin Yi's heart—the heart of his soul projection—suddenly contracted, then was enveloped in ice. The icy flow began to change. The extreme cold remained, but within that cold, a transparent, almost "purifying" power gradually crystallized. It no longer tried to assimilate him; instead, it was like the finest ice-carving knife, slowly shaving away, smoothing out the parts of his soul twisted and scorched by anger, hatred, and fear, leaving behind smooth, cold surfaces. The last echo, Su Wanqing's will. It was the faintest, yet also the warmest, like the last ember in a cold night, about to die but still stubbornly radiating residual warmth, dark red. Lin Yi's "hand" trembled so violently it could barely maintain its shape. His physical body was less than ten zhang from the edge of the annihilation vortex; the gray-silver chaotic energy currents began to tear at his robes, the fabric emitting the sound of tearing under unbearable strain. Fine, web-like cracks appeared on the surface of his skin; pale golden beads of blood had just seeped out before they were immediately snatched away by the vortex's suction, disappearing without a trace. He closed his eyes—not his physical eyes, but his consciousness sinking completely into that final warmth. Light. Warm, gentle light, like a spring afternoon, utterly non-invasive, shone into his cold, shattered soul core that had just been "purified" by the icy flow without any warning. Lin Yi shuddered all over, not from pain, but from another, sharper sting—the sting brought by warmth. Too pure, it clashed violently with the deep-seated darkness within his soul—the anger of betrayal, the self-loathing of incompetence, the icy fear of losing once more. The ice layer shattered under the sunlight, not melting, but shattering, each shard turning into a sharp blade, churning and cutting within his consciousness. He "saw" Su Wanqing's final push. Not an image, but a sensation. Her slender palm pressed against his back, beneath the fabric, her palm slightly cool, the force not great, yet carrying an unyielding resolve. She believed he could find his own path, that trust was unreserved, blazing as if to burn away all the parts of his soul accustomed to curling up in shadows, leaving behind clean scorch marks. "Ugh A real sensation of being gripped and then released came from the position of his heart. It was as if an invisible hand, carrying a final warmth and gentleness, had gently squeezed the core of his soul—that core riddled with a thousand holes—and then released it, leaving behind a scorching residual warmth and a hollow, stinging pain. The falling stopped. Lin Yi hung suspended at the edge of the annihilation vortex. His body was broken and battered, his robes torn to tatters. Exposed skin was covered in a web of cracks and charred, scorched marks. Pale golden threads of blood seeped from all seven orifices, tracing startling paths down his pallid face as they slowly meandered. Deep within his gaze, that flickering, struggling, dark-golden flame had completely vanished. In its place was a warm, restrained, jade-white luster, quietly settled in the deepest part of his pupils. It was not blazing, not ostentatious, yet exceptionally stable. It was like a form finally shaped after a thousand hammer strikes, three cycles of forging and quenching—heavy, pure, and imbued with a cold quality. It wasn't that he had mustered some power to resist the pull of gravity. It was a natural result of a fundamental qualitative change in his soul after completing the three cycles of "reliving death." He hung suspended at the turbulent, churning edge of the gray-silver vortex. Chaotic energy currents tore at his ruined body like countless invisible hands, yet could no longer drag him in even a fraction. It was as if he himself now possessed a different weight. He slowly raised a hand—a real hand, covered in bloodstains and scorch marks—and looked at his palm. A wisp of flame silently manifested. It was an almost transparent, warm white. Like the halo of sunlight refracted through thin ice during the thaw of early spring, it burned quietly, faint, yet carrying an indescribable vitality. Looking at it, the corner of Lin Yi's mouth twitched, ever so slowly. The motion tugged at his dry, cracked lips, bringing a faint, stinging sensation. "Wanqing..." he murmured, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible, his throat full of the metallic taste of blood, "Your letter... was my final soil..." He paused, then gently pressed the flame in his palm against his chest. The flame had no temperature, yet its touch felt unusually heavy, like a warm, smooth piece of white jade sinking into his heart. His body remained broken, excruciating pain still crashing against every nerve like tidal waves. But deep within his soul, something heavy and pure had completely settled. He could feel it clearly—Shi Meng's will was embedded in the right shoulder of his soul like a red-hot branding iron; Yun Zhi's will flowed like an icy spring, bringing an extreme cold wherever it passed, a cold that penetrated to the marrow yet made his chaotic thoughts exceptionally clear; and what Su Wanqing had left was a warmth wrapped around the lingering temperature of the letter paper, now protecting his final heart meridian. These three utterly distinct sensations intertwined and collided within him, finally converging into that quiet, warm-white glow in his chest. It was at this moment, in the vortex's center— A massive "eye," composed of countless silver runes of rules, was slowly opening. Each rune flowed and reorganized, emitting nearly inaudible, fine sounds like the friction of ice crystals. *Click-clack*. Cold, emotionless, like an eternally existent starry sky, quietly gazing at this being suspended on the edge of destruction... Lin Yi took a deep breath. The radiation from the annihilation energy stung his lungs; the air was thick with the smell of scorching and the pungent odor of some metal melted by high heat. But he did not retreat. Instead, facing the gaze of that "Eye of Rules," he calmly sent the voice of his soul forward. It hovered before Lin Yi's chest, burning quietly, without temperature, without sound. Like a teardrop fallen onto ice, ready to be scattered at any moment by the chaotic energy currents stirred up by the annihilation vortex. He could feel the pull of the gray-silver energy around him, like countless cold hands trying to snuff out this feeble flicker. He remained suspended at the edge of the gray-silver vortex, his body still broken—three ribs were fractured, every breath pulling at a sharp, stabbing pain; his left arm hung at an unnatural angle, a dull ache coming from the numbed joint; the pale golden threads of blood that had seeped from his seven orifices had congealed, forming hard scabs on his cheeks. But his eyes were open. Deep in his pupils reflected that faint, warm-white flame, and also the slowly opening "giant eye" in the vortex's center. Composed of countless silver run It was replaced by a more immense, more silent pressure—as if the entire starry sky was pressing down upon his soul. Lin Yi's breathing stopped, not out of fear, but because his body's instincts were resisting this "gaze." His fingertips unconsciously tapped lightly against his palm, once, twice, his nails scraping over his palm lines, bringing a faint, self-belonging sensation, using it to resist that omnipresent, icy stare. "Miss Yun's path is a choice made after seeing through." The warm-white flame flickered slightly, as if responding. An extremely faint yet exceptionally clear scent of sandalwood, without warning, began to diffuse within his nasal cavity. The aroma was cool and distant, instantly overwhelming the charred smell around him. Lin Yi raised his head, meeting that "Eye of Rules." His gaze was calm, devoid of anger or questioning, holding only a near-cruel clarity. He knew what he needed to do next—this might be the last, and most direct, time he would converse with this world's "underlying logic." He must ask, and he must receive an answer. "Your order," Lin Yi's soul-voice rippled through the silence, each word like a stone dropped into a deep pool, causing subtle reverberations within his own skull, "to maintain the stability of the whole, must you crush the starlight of the individual?" The chaotic energy flow at the edge of the vortex suddenly stagnated for an instant. The flow of the silver runes visibly slowed. The "gaze" of that "giant eye" became more focused, like a microscope's lens aimed at an abnormal cell on a specimen. No hostility, no anger, only pure, inhuman "observation." Lin Yi felt a faint tingling sensation on his skin's surface, as if being scanned by countless invisible probes. The warm-white flame at Lin Yi's chest, at this moment, suddenly brightened by a degree. The halo it emitted was no longer merely warm, but possessed a... texture. Like the inner glow of white jade, heavy, pure, carrying a certain undeniable "sense of presence." This halo flowed over the surface of Lin Yi's shattered body. Wherever it passed, the charred marks left by the annihilation energy did not heal, but their spread ceased, bringing a cool, soothing sensation. A fragile balance was established on the edge of death. "I do not seek to replace you," Lin Yi continued, his speech slow, each word weighed by his soul. He could feel the tightness of his vocal cords, "nor do I seek your approval. I only ask—" That warm-white flame slowly drifted down to land in his palm. The edges of the flame began to make contact with the surrounding gray-silver annihilation energy, emitting a faint, almost inaudible *sizzling* sound, like water droplets falling onto red-hot iron. It was not confrontation, not burning, but a more complex... permeation and weaving. He could "see"—no, "feel"—countless white threads, fine to the point of near-invisibility, extending from the flame's edge, attempting to entwine and weave through those icy, chaotic rule-flows. "Can this seed of mine, born from error," Lin Yi looked at the flame in his palm, then at the "giant eye," his throat tightening, "possibly grow into a patch of... different shade upon this ruin you maintain?" The runes of the "Eye of Rules" completely ceased their flow. A vast, icy stream of information flooded into Lin Yi's consciousness without warning. Not language, not images, but a more fundamental, direct transmission of "concepts." A white noise blending billions of voices exploded in his ears, then rapidly collapsed into a few clear core "phrases." He grunted, a trickle of pale golden blood once again spilling from the corner of his mouth, the warm liquid sliding down his jaw. His soul felt as if thrown into the depths of an icy sea. The impact of each "concept" carried a weight sufficient to crush an ordinary mind, icy stabs of pain piercing from his temples straight to the back of his skull. But he did not collapse. Instead, he gritted his teeth fiercely, tasting blood between them, using his newly transformed, now "heavy and pure" soul to bear it, to comprehend. The core content of the information stream gradually clarified in his consciousness: **[System: Heavenly Dao Rules (Base Program)]** **[Status: Running, Stability 97.3%]** **[Anomaly Detection: Individual 'Lin Yi' (Original ID: Lin Clan - Ziyuan - 037)]** **[Data Status: Spirit Root Shattered (Heavenly Punishment Mark), Inverse Fate Flame (Undefined Energy Variant)]** **[Judgment: Non-preset variable within program]** **[Threat Level: Low (Energy Intensity < 0.001 Standard Unit)]** **[Observation S The last four words pierced Lin Yi's soul like an ice spike. "The conflict between individual value and collective stability," the information flow continued, cold, objective, devoid of any emotion, each "concept" striking his consciousness like a hailstone, "is inevitable data redundancy generated by 'program' operation. Clearing redundancy is the optimal solution for maintaining long-term 'system' stability. Your question presupposes that 'individual starlight' carries greater weight than 'system stability'—this presupposition has no data support, no logical foundation, therefore: logical error." Lin Yi's breathing ceased completely at that moment. What rose in his chest was not anger, but a deeper... chill. He suddenly understood why Xiao Han feared "disorder" so much, why his father had signed that contract, why the "Heavenly Dao" took sacrifice for granted. Because in the eyes of this "system," everything—including emotions, memories, life—was merely... data. Redundant data that could be cleared for higher "system stability." "Then," Lin Yi's soul-voice carried a tremor he himself was unaware of, his tone tight, "Shi Meng's death, Yun Zhi's dissipation, Wanqing's trust... these were all just cleared 'redundancy'?" [Response: Yes.] [Supplement: Their 'data imprints' have merged into your 'Flame of Defying Fate' variant, becoming components of the new variable. This process increased variable stability and lowered clearance priority. From a 'system' efficiency perspective, this outcome is superior to direct erasure.] The warm white flame in his palm suddenly flickered violently at this moment. Not from fear, but from a kind of... resonance. He felt, deep within the flame, three faint yet tenacious "imprints" glowing with warmth—Shi Meng's boldness carried the impact and scent of rust like a falling warhammer, Yun Zhi's tranquility brought the chill of flowing ice and sandalwood, Wanqing's warmth wrapped around the texture of letter paper and the scent of sunlight. They were... part of what made him "Lin Yi." It was the price of their "redundancy" that had bought the flame now burning in his palm. "I understand," Lin Yi opened his eyes, his gaze regaining calmness, even carrying a hint of relief, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "My path is not to overthrow your 'system'." He clenched his fist. The warm white flame flowed between his fingers but did not burn his skin; instead, it brought a sensation as gentle and enveloping as jade. "My path is to become the 'seed' born from 'error,' yet destined to take root, grow, and ultimately... carve a new path upon this 'ruins' you maintain." [Response: Yes.] [Supplement: Your 'variable' attributes have been recorded. Observation sequence initiated, designation: SEED-001.] [Warning: Variable stability is dependent on current energy environment (edge of Net of Heaven's Annihilation Core). Post-environmental change, survival probability: Below 0.7%.] [Suggestion: Complete 'seeding' foundational framework before environmental collapse.] He looked around—the gray-silver annihilation vortex still rotated slowly, but its speed had noticeably decreased. The howling of the chaotic energy flows had grown low and deep. The runes of that "Eye of Rules" began flowing again, but the focus of its "gaze" had shifted from him to the warm white flame in his palm. A non-hostile observation, even carrying a hint of "curiosity." Lin Yi could feel the "weight" of that gaze lifting from him, the prickling sensation on his skin subsiding as well. Faint, bitter, but it was indeed a smile. He lowered his head, looking at his own palm, at that faint yet tenacious flame, at the three familiar "imprints" deep within the fire. His fingertips lightly brushed the edge of the flame, sensing a subtle texture, akin to stroking silk. "Brother Shi Meng, you said you wanted me to see the higher peaks for you..." "Miss Yun, you said seeds need soil..." "Now," Lin Yi raised his head, his gaze piercing through the vortex towards the blurred, collapsing trial space beyond the formation, his throat moving slightly, "how... do I 'sow'?" The runes of the "Eye of Rules" suddenly flashed intensely, emitting a brief, crisp sound, like shattering ice crystals. A new, even more concise "concept" was transmitted. It remained cold, yet carried a hint of something nearly like a "prompt." He had to complete the first "anchoring" of the "seed" to this "ruins of rules" within these seventy-three seconds. Otherwise, when the formation completely collapsed, when the observation of the "Eye of Rules" was interrupted by the drastic environmental change, when Mo Chen's twelve percent chance of success dropped to zero— Lin Yi repeated softly under his breath, his gaze fixed on the shattered, swirling silver runes at the edge of the vortex. Those runes were like broken shards of glass, their edges sharp, reflecting the dull sheen of annihilating energy. Should he let the flame touch them directly? Or... use his soul to "weave"? He gritted his teeth, a sharp, stabbing pain radiating from his broken ribs. Every breath tasted of rust and blood. He forced himself to open his palm, slowly pushing the warm white flame toward the nearest shattered rune. The edge of the flame touched the silver light of the rune— An unprecedented "sensation" shot back through his soul connection, sharp and unmistakable. Not temperature. Not sound. It was a cold, hard "rejection." Like fingernails dragging across frosted glass, emitting a silent shriek. The rune itself refused to be "anchored." The small patch of ruined rules it represented behind it was dead, solidified, like a piece of cold iron. But deep within... there was an extremely faint "pore." It quivered in the depths of his soul, like a dewdrop about to evaporate, so fragile one dared not touch it. Lin Yi's finger—if a soul had fingers—hovered above that point of light. A cold numbness spread from his fingertip. It wasn't Shi Meng's scorching heat, nor Yun Zhi's piercing cold, but another kind of temperature that made him want to retreat—a gentle, almost terrifying warmth. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath—though a soul didn't need to breathe, the action sent a tearing pain through his damaged lungs. Then he reached out and grasped that light. There was no roar, no deafening sound of shattering bones. Not even the icy stillness of Yun Zhi. Only a current of warmth, like afternoon sunlight slanting through a broken window in spring, slowly, inexorably seeping into every crack of his soul. Wherever that warmth passed, it brought a strange, stinging pain—not a burn, but the fine, dense pain of something frozen for too long suddenly exposed to light, its surface cracking. The image of Su Wanqing's final push flooded back to him. The slightly cool touch of her palm against his elbow, the rough friction of fabric fibers against his skin. That push had been light, trembling with finality. He heard his own ragged gasps from that moment, his throat thick with the taste of blood; heard the shriek of the formation's light spears tearing through the air, like metal scraping against eardrums. Then, the rustle of her robes as she turned, the sound of cloth, like a fallen leaf dropping into a deep well. A sound as light as a sigh, yet as heavy as an entire mountain pressing down on his chest. Lin Yi's soul began to tremble. Not from pain—at least not the tearing, sharp kind. This was a slower torment. The warm current seeped into the corners of him that had grown accustomed to darkness, scorching all the protective shells he had built. He was used to using anger as fuel, hatred as armor, but Su Wanqing's will contained none of that. Only trust. Only surrender. Only a kind of almost naive... belief. The images continued to flow. He saw the look in her eyes at the very end. Not farewell. Not sorrow. But a kind of... calm entrustment. As if she were merely handing something important to him for safekeeping, to be retrieved when she returned. Her pupils had reflected his own stunned face at that moment, clear as a mirror. This realization was like a blunt knife, slowly carving its way into Lin Yi's consciousness. It hurt more than Shi Meng's war hammer, because this pain could not be resisted. You couldn't roar at warmth. You couldn't throw a punch at trust. You could only endure it, let it melt away all your defenses, exposing the frozen, long-hidden softness beneath. His throat tightened. He wanted to say something, but only a broken, breathy sound escaped. The warm current surged toward the position of the heart—the soul's projection. There, he felt a real, gripping sensation. An invisible hand gently closed around his battered, scarred soul core. The grip was gentle, yet inescapable. He could feel the temperature of that hand—not scalding, but firm. Then, the hand let go. As it released, its fingertips left a subtle impression on the surface of his soul—not the mark of a grip, but something more like... an imprint. "Your Way..." Lin Yi heard his own soul's voice tremble, his vocal cords grating with a hoarse texture, "isn't about charging forward, isn't about seeing through fate... It's simply... faith." The warm current did not answer. It didn't need to. It simply continued to seep Shi Meng's scorching heat was on the left, like molten lava surging, he could feel the temperature of that force coursing through his blood vessels. Yun Zhi's bone-chilling cold was on the right, like a winding glacier, an icy sting transmitted across the surface of his skin. And Su Wanqing's warmth held the center, like a bridge, connecting and harmonizing the two diametrically opposed forces. He could clearly perceive the three temperatures intersecting, colliding, and merging within his body. It wasn't a simple superposition. It was a deeper chemical reaction. Scorching heat and bone-chilling cold canceled each other out, yet also mutually stimulated each other, and catalyzed by the warmth, gave birth to an entirely new... texture. Like a piece of iron that had been repeatedly forged, quenched, and finally stripped of all impurities. He could hear faint, metallic humming coming from within his body. Lin Yi opened his eyes—if a soul had eyes. He saw himself suspended at the edge of the Annihilation Vortex. His body was still shattered, the pale golden blood that had seeped from his seven orifices had now congealed into strange patterns, clinging to his skin like dried spider webs. But the flickering flame within his body... It was no longer a burning dark gold. Nor was it Shi Meng's violent crimson, nor Yun Zhi's deep, cold silver-white. It burned quietly, without scorching heat, without dazzling brilliance. Like the first rays of sunlight piercing through thin mist on a winter morning, gentle, restrained, yet stubbornly present. He could see the rhythm pulsing at the core of the flame, each beat causing his shattered chest to rise and fall slightly. The warm white flame pulsed steadily there, each beat echoing with the resonance of three wills. Shi Meng's boldness, Yun Zhi's tranquility, Su Wanqing's warmth—they hadn't vanished, but had fused into something... more fundamental. He could taste the metallic tang of blood fading from his mouth, replaced by a faint, lingering sweetness, like the final aftertaste of some medicinal herb. "...Seed... needs... soil... you are..." He wasn't trying to become a new Heaven, nor to destroy the old Heaven. What he wanted to become was the first seed sprouting upon the ruins of the old Heaven. The... bridge that forcibly opened a path of possibility within the solidified rules. That place was no longer pure destructive energy. The moment the warm white flame was born, something deep within the vortex... opened. Composed of countless silver runes of rules, cold, merciless, vast beyond comprehension. It had no pupils, only endlessly flowing, reorganizing, calculating runes, like a perpetual machine examining the world. As the runes turned, they emitted a faint, metallic friction-like hum that drilled deep into the eardrums. Lin Yi hovered at the vortex's edge, staring into that eye. He felt no fear, no anger, not even the impulse to question. He simply spoke calmly, in the voice of his soul. The voice was soft, yet pierced through the shrieking of the annihilating energy. "To maintain the stability of the whole," he said, each word squeezed from his chest, carrying the weight of blood, "must the starlight of individuals be crushed?" The Eye of Rules did not react. The runes continued to flow, the hum unchanged. Lin Yi continued, "Within your order, is there room for 'possibility'?" He raised his hand—shattered, almost skeletal. Palm facing upward, the warm white flame danced in his palm, its gentle halo carving out a small space... different from the surrounding grey gloom of the vortex. He could feel the slight resistance as the flame's edge rubbed against the surrounding annihilating energy, like rowing against the current. A pause lasting a billionth of a second. The hum vanished. Then, a vast torrent of information flooded directly into Lin Yi's consciousness. Not language. Not sound. A more primitive deluge of data, cold, immense, inhuman. Like the trajectories of an entire starry sky, like the laws of all life's birth and death, like time's own relentless flow. The instant that torrent crashed into his mind, he felt his skull was about to split, his temples throbbing violently. But the warm white flame in his palm flared brightly for a moment. The halo expanded, forming a fragile... filtering layer around his soul. The cold data stream passed through this filter, was parsed, reorganized, transformed into fragmented information he could comprehend. He could "hear" the sound of that information colliding within his consciousness, like countless glass beads rolling on a metal plate. The information torrent continued to wash over him. Lin Yi gritted his teeth, enduring, his teeth grinding audibly. Blood seeped from his seven orifices again—this time bright red, warm liquid trickling down his cheeks, dripping from his For the "Daoist Rules of Heaven," the world was a vast and intricate program. Overall stability was paramount above all else. Individuals? Merely data points. Sacrifice? Just necessary computational loss. It harbored no malice, because it possessed no "intent" at all. It was simply executing the most fundamental program logic: maintaining the system's non-collapse. Lin Yi could "see" those logical chains unfurling within his consciousness—cold, precise, utterly devoid of emotion. A variable that should not have existed. An anomalous seed that, upon the ruins of the rules, forcibly sprouted through the "illegal" catalysis of the will of the deceased. Not out of mercy. It was because his very existence had become a new object of... observation. The Rules needed data, needed to understand how this "variable" was generated, how it operated, whether it would pose a threat to the system. Lin Yi felt that "observing" gaze, like countless icy needles piercing his skin. The flow of information began to weaken. The runes of the Rule's Eye swirled more slowly, that enormous eye gradually... closing. Not vanishing, but shifting into a standby state. The energy radiation from the annihilation vortex also strangely halted, as if the entire formation's program had entered some kind of logical deadlock due to the appearance of this "anomalous variable." The oppressive energy shrieking surrounding him vanished, replaced by an eerie, vacuum-like silence. Lin Yi knew this was only temporary. The Rule's Eye was "observing," "calculating." Once it reached the conclusion that the "variable threatens system stability," the eradication program would immediately restart. He could feel that killing intent hidden deep within the silence, like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows. He looked down at the warm white flame in his palm. It remained faint, yet extraordinarily stable. Within the flame's core, he could vaguely discern the residual shadows of three points of light—the will imprints of Shi Meng, Yun Zhi, and Su Wanqing had completely merged into this nascent power. He could feel the rhythm of those three imprints pulsating within the flame, like three faint yet synchronized heartbeats. He clenched his fist. His knuckles made faint cracking sounds. The flame did not extinguish; instead, a gentle light seeped through the gaps between his finger bones, illuminating the dried bloodstains on the back of his hand. Then he raised his head, looking towards the area above the vortex—the boundary between the formation and the outside world, a distorted, unstable chaotic space. He could sense that outside, someone was looking for him. More than one person. Some force was tearing at the formation's boundary; each tear brought subtle tremors to the spatial structure, like someone forcefully striking a glass dome. He understood Yun Zhi's meaning. A seed needs soil to grow. And his soil was not this soon-to-collapse formation ruin. It was those people who were still waiting, still struggling, still believing in the existence of "possibility." Lin Yi looked down at himself. Meridians shattered inch by inch, bones fractured, internal organs over seventy percent damaged. Hanging onto his last breath solely by the warm white flame. Forget fighting, he couldn't even stand up. He could clearly feel the pain emanating from every broken part of his body, like a dense, intricate net firmly pinning him in this current predicament. He hovered at the edge of the stagnant annihilation vortex, the warm white flame burning quietly in his palm. The Rule's Eye had closed, but the feeling of being "observed" was like a thorn in his back, cold and persistent. He could feel that gaze scanning his soul, analyzing the energy structure of the warm white flame, calculating the optimal plan for his eradication. The formation was only temporarily stalled, not stopped. Could his allies outside find him? And if they did, how would they get him out? And could this nascent, fragile warm white flame truly... grow in the outside world? His fingertip unconsciously tapped his knuckle—once, twice, three times. A rhythm carrying a sense of pressure echoed at the edge of the dead vortex. The sound of fingernail against bone was crisp and lonely. Not the sound of the Rule's Eye. Not the echoes of the deceased. A vague, distant, fragmented nursery rhyme. It came from the deepest part of his soul, like memory fragments of his late mother humming to him in his childhood. The voice was very soft, carrying a certain familiar melody that tightened his throat. At the position of his heart—the soul projection—besides the heaviness of the fused triple will, there was something else now. Extremely faint, almost invisible. But it was flickering. Flickering at a familiar frequency that tightened his throat. Like some kind of distress signal, or perhaps some kind of... mark. "Father..." he murmured softly, his voice devoid of anger, devoid of resentment, containing only a He no longer looked toward the vortex above. Nor did he look at the Eye of Rules again. He lowered his head and pressed the warm white flame in his palm... against his own chest. The moment the flame touched his skin, there was no burning pain. Only a gentle, permeating sensation. The warm white light engulfed his broken body, and he could see his own bones showing a translucent outline within the glow. In that instant, Lin Yi saw neither darkness nor light. He saw... a line. One end anchored deep within the ruins of the rules, the other end... The other end extended in a certain direction—not inside the formation, not outside, but toward a more ambiguous "location," somewhere between existence and non-existence. He could feel that line vibrating slightly, like a plucked string. The warm white light lasted for three breaths, then slowly receded. Lin Yi still hovered there. His body was not repaired—instead, it had become even more... transparent. You could see faintly flowing veins of warm white light beneath his damaged skin, like some kind of inhuman energy circuit. Those light veins flowed slowly within him, emitting an extremely faint glow. Deep within his pupils, a warm white flame burned quietly. His gaze swept over the stagnant vortex, over the closed Eye of Rules, and finally fixed in a certain direction. Not the cracks from the formation's natural collapse. It had been... forcibly torn open by external force. He could see the distortion of the spatial structure there, like a piece of fabric being ripped, the edges showing an irregular, jagged pattern. Each tear was accompanied by flashes of energy bursts and dull rumbles—the sound came from an extreme distance, blurred and suppressed afte