Chapter 140: Labyrinth of Echoes
The climb was a war of attrition. Each step intensified the spiritual gravity, heavy as syrup. Lin Tian focused on his rhythmic breathing and core’s pulse. He didn’t fight the pressure, instead channeling it through his Chaos-Harmony Origin Vessel.
Beside him, Xueya moved with a glacial patience, her Ice Phoenix essence a cool, silver anchor in his senses. Su Lan’s internal fire was a low, banked furnace, burning clean and steady. Lu Cang was the only one audibly struggling, his breath a ragged sawing sound, but he kept pace, his determination a tangible force.
The staircase seemed to go on forever, a grey spiral vanishing into shadow. Then, without warning, it ended.
They stepped onto a flat, circular platform. The oppressive gravity vanished, leaving a dizzying lightness in its wake. Lu Cang stumbled, catching himself on the wall with a gasp of relief.
They weren’t at the top. They were in a chamber. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of the same seamless, faintly luminous grey stone. There were no doors. No windows. Just a perfect, empty sphere of space.
"A dead end?" Lu Cang muttered, rubbing his shoulder.
"No," Xueya said, her voice quiet. She pointed at the wall in front of them. As they watched, the stone rippled, like water disturbed by a dropped pebble. A section of it simply faded away, revealing a corridor stretching into darkness.
"It’s waiting for us," Lin Tian said.
He took the first step into the corridor. The moment his foot touched the new floor, the wall behind them solidified, sealing them in. The light from the chamber vanished, leaving only the soft, sourceless glow of the corridor walls.
They walked in silence for a hundred paces. The corridor was straight, featureless.
Then it branched.
Three identical passages opened before them, left, center, and right. There was no difference Lin Tian could see.
"We should stick together," Su Lan said, her eyes narrowing as she peered down each path.
"Agreed," Lin Tian said. "Center."
They moved as one into the middle passage. Ten steps in, the walls on either side of them shimmered. Not a ripple this time, but a violent, blurring shift. The stone became translucent, like frosted glass.
Lin Tian saw silhouettes through the wall to his left—Xueya, Su Lan, Lu Cang, walking beside him. He could see them, but the corridor they were in was now separate, running parallel to his own.
He reached out to touch the wall. His fingers met cold, solid resistance. "Xueya!"
Her head turned in the other corridor. He saw her lips move, but no sound came through. She placed her palm against the translucent barrier from her side. He matched it with his own. They were inches apart, separated by an impossible pane of stone.
To his right, Su Lan was already hammering a fist against her wall, her expression fierce. He saw the impact, but heard nothing. Lu Cang was looking around, his face etched with alarm.
The floor under Lin Tian’s feet lurched.
The corridor he was in slid sideways. It didn’t turn. The entire passage, like a tube, just moved, grinding against some unseen mechanism. The silhouettes of his companions jerked away, disappearing as the corridors diverged.
He was alone.
The corridor kept shifting, turning now, angling downward. The walls stopped being translucent, reverting to solid, glowing grey. He was in a maze, and the maze was alive.
He forced himself to stop, to stand still in the center of the passage. Panic was a cold knot in his stomach. They’re alone too. They’re separated. This is the trap.
The System interface flickered to life in the corner of his vision, text scrolling calmly.
[Environmental Analysis: Spatial Displacement Labyrinth detected.]
[Objective: Isolate intruders. Induce psychological stress via personalized resonant illusions.]
[Countermeasure: Harem Link Network remains operational. Spiritual bonds transcend physical separation.]
Lin Tian let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Can you hear me? he thought, directing the question not at the System, but down the threads of connection that lived in his soul.
The response was immediate, a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with Su Lan’s fire.
Lin Tian? Xueya’s mental voice was clear, a chime of silver in his mind. It held a note of tension, but no fear. I cannot see you. The walls moved.
I’m here, he sent back. Are you hurt?
I am unharmed. The corridor is... shifting. It is attempting to disorient me.
A second thread, warmer, sparked to life. Tian? Su Lan’s thought-voice was like embers, steady and warm. I’m in a dead end. The wall just appeared in front of me. This place is playing games.
Lu Cang? Lin Tian pushed the thought out along the connection he shared with the man, a thinner, newer thread formed of loyalty and shared trial.
There was a lag, then a fuzzy, strained response. Young Master? I can... hear you? In my head? What sorcery—
It’s the bond from the rift, Lin Tian cut in, simplifying. We can speak this way. The tower can’t block it. Report.
I’m in a round room, Lu Cang thought back, his mental voice awed and nervous. Three exits. They keep... breathing. Like they’re alive.
Alright. Listen. The tower is trying to split us up and scare us. It’s going to throw illusions at you. Your deepest fears, your biggest insecurities. Do not believe them. They are not real. If you see something, tell me immediately.
Illusions? Xueya’s thought was cool. It will try to exploit our doubts.
Exactly. And that’s our advantage. Su Lan, describe your dead end. The exact shape, the texture of the wall.
Uh... it’s curved. Concave. The stone is smoother here, almost slick. There’s a faint pattern in the glow, like veins.
Xueya, your corridor.
It slopes upward. The ceiling is lower. I feel a draft from ahead, cold and dry.
Lu Cang, the exits. Which one feels most stable?
The... the left one. It’s not pulsing like the others.
Good. Go left. Walk slowly. Describe everything you see.
As Lin Tian directed them, he began to move himself. His own corridor had stabilized into a long, straight hall. He kept one part of his mind on his own senses, and the other three parts on the streams of information coming from his linked partners.
It was like having four sets of eyes. He could see the labyrinth from multiple angles at once.
There’s a figure, Xueya sent, her mental voice dropping to a whisper. At the end of the slope.
Describe it.
It is... me. But older. Colder. Eyes like frozen chips. She is holding a sword made of black ice. She says I will become her. That the Phoenix will consume everything I am, and leave only this husk of power.
Lin Tian felt a chill that wasn’t from the corridor. That was Xueya’s deepest fear—losing herself to the legacy in her blood, becoming the unfeeling Ice Fairy of rumor. It’s a reflection of your fear, he sent, pouring warmth and certainty down the bond. It has no power you don’t give it. Walk toward her.
She is raising the sword.
She isn’t real, Xueya. Walk through her.
Through their link, he sensed her resolve harden. As she walked, Xueya didn’t flinch against the icy blade. Passing through like mist, the figure shattered into harmless glass shards.
It’s gone, she reported, a wave of relief coloring her thoughts. The corridor continues.
Su Lan?
My turn, Su Lan’s thought came, laced with dry amusement. It’s a medical tableau. I’m in the pavilion. You’re on the bed, meridians blackened, vessel integrity at zero. I’m trying every needle, every elixir. Nothing works. You grow cold. The voice says, "Your fire is useless. You are a healer who cannot heal the one that matters."
Lin Tian’s chest tightened. Her fear wasn’t of weakness, but of professional failure. Of her core identity being proven false. You already healed me, he sent back, fiercely. You and Xueya brought me back from the edge. That memory is real. This is dust.
He felt her draw on that memory, on the tangible proof of their success. In her shared perception, the ghastly scene flickered. The image of his lifeless body wavered. She turned her back on it, focusing on the real, steady pulse of his life through their bond. The illusion crumpled silently.
Pathetic, she thought, and he could almost see her brushing her hands together. The wall at my dead end is gone. New path.
Lu Cang?
Young Master... it’s my father. Lu Cang’s mental voice was thick with shame. He’s pointing at my sword. The crack in it. He’s saying I’m a disgrace. That I’ll never be more than a mediocre disciple with a broken blade. That I should have died in the canyon to at least be of some use.
Lin Tian understood. Lu Cang’s insecurity was his perceived mediocrity, his lack of a supreme talent. Your worth isn’t in your sword, or your talent, Lin Tian thought, putting force behind the words. It’s in your loyalty. Your perseverance on those stairs proved more than any perfect foundation. You are here. They are not. Tell him that.
He felt Lu Cang’s surge of defiance, raw and unpolished. The disciple in his round room straightened his shoulders. Lin Tian didn’t hear the words, but he felt the illusion’s hold break, like a string snapping. He’s gone, Lu Cang sent, his voice stronger. The exits have stopped moving. I’m taking the left.
Good. Keep talking. Tell me about the walls.
As they fed him data, Lin Tian’s own corridor began to change. The air grew heavy, not with gravity, but with memory. The grey walls seemed to drink the light, growing darker.
A scene coalesced in front of him. Not an opaque illusion, but a ghostly overlay on the corridor.
He saw the Lin Clan main hall, but empty, shrouded in dust. He saw himself, not as he was now, but as he had been. The cripple. He was kneeling on the cold floor, head bowed. Whispers filled the air, the same whispers that had haunted his youth. Useless. Broken. A drain on the clan. He will never cultivate. He is less than nothing.
The figure of his younger self looked up. His eyes were hollow, devoid of hope. They stared at present-day Lin Tian.
A voice, smooth and insidious, echoed not in the corridor, but in his mind. This is the truth. All this power is borrowed. A trick. A system’s charity. Strip it away, and you are still this. Kneeling in the dust.
It was the core of it. The fear that had festered for years. That none of this was truly his. That he was a fraud wearing a coat of stolen paint.
He felt Xueya’s presence, a cool anchor. He felt Su Lan’s steady flame. He felt Lu Cang’s dogged loyalty.
I am not borrowing, he thought, not to the illusion, but to himself. I am synthesizing. I am linking. The bonds are real. The strength we build together is real. That boy in the dust... he never gave up. He endured. He is the foundation, not the failure.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t attack the vision. He simply walked forward, straight through the kneeling figure of his past.
It dissolved like smoke, the whispers cutting off into silence.
The corridor ahead was no longer a corridor. It opened into a vast, spherical chamber. In the center of the chamber, three other passages were disgorging their occupants.
Xueya stepped out from a passage high on the left wall, descending a short flight of stairs that hadn’t been there a moment before. Su Lan emerged from an archway directly opposite Lin Tian. Lu Cang stumbled out of a low tunnel to the right, blinking in the chamber’s brighter light.
They were reunited.
End of Chapter 140
