271: Chapter 271 Starry Sky Illusionary Sea

The fifth layer of space was a vast, azure ocean.

The seawater was not actual water, but the power of illusion condensed from Chenxing's rules. The surface of the sea shimmered, reflecting countless scenes—Ling Hao's past experiences, the people he knew, and the battles he had fought. Every ripple was a memory, and every wave was a possibility.

The Chenxing Illusory Sea was one of the most bizarre Formations of the Heavenly Dao Palace. It did not attack the Physical Body, but only targeted the mind. Those who entered the Formation would see their deepest fears, most painful memories, and the things they yearned for most but could never obtain within the illusory sea.

If one's mind faltered, they would sink forever into the illusory sea, unable to extricate themselves. Failing to pass through this Formation was not due to a lack of strength, but because one's heart was not resolute enough.

The moment Ling Hao stepped onto the sea's surface, his feet sank.

As the seawater washed over his ankles, there was no sensation of cold, only a bizarre "resonance," as if the water were reading his memories and exploring the depths of his Soul. He felt his past being flipped open page by page like a book, each page so vivid that it felt foreign even to himself.

This was an experience he had never had before. The power of the Chenxing Illusory Sea was far more bizarre than he had anticipated. It did not simply create illusions; it delved deep into his Soul, unearthing memories he thought he had forgotten or had intentionally buried.

The surrounding scenery abruptly shifted.

He was no longer standing on the sea, but on the city walls of Qingyun City. Below, the army of the Heavenly Dao Palace was besieging the city, and countless Ling Family Disciples lay fallen in pools of blood. Shouts of battle, screams of agony, and the clashing of Magic Treasures intertwined, the air thick with the stench of blood.

Ling Hao stood on the city wall. He had no Spear of Fate Reversal in his hand, no nine tokens, and not even a ripple of spiritual energy. He was like a bystander, forced to watch everything unfold with his own eyes, unable to intervene.

His father, Ling Zhentian, was covered in blood, holding a broken longsword as he was besieged by three Soul Transformation Cultivators. His left arm had already been severed, blood gushing out like a spring, yet he still fought to the death without retreating. Every strike from the three Soul Transformation Cultivators carried mockery and cruelty; they were in no hurry to deliver a killing blow, but were instead playing with their prey.

"Ling Zhentian, your Ling Family's fortune has run dry! Surrender, and perhaps the Temple Master will spare your miserable dog life!"

"Bullshit!" Ling Zhentian roared, sweeping his broken sword to force one of them back. But his steps were already faltering, and blood dripped down his clothes, leaving a shocking trail of red on the city wall.

Ling Hao's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He wanted to rush forward and save his father, but his body remained absolutely still—not because he didn't want to move, but because he couldn't. The rules of the Chenxing Illusory Sea fixed him in the position of a bystander; he could only watch and listen, unable to change anything.

"Father..." He grit his teeth, his voice low and hoarse.

As if sensing something, Ling Zhentian suddenly turned his head. His bloodshot eyes met Ling Hao's for a brief moment, and his lips curled into a strained smile.

"Hao'er, don't be afraid. Father can hold on."

Just as he finished speaking, a longsword pierced through his chest from behind, its tip protruding from his front. Blood splattered, landing on Ling Hao's face, warm and terrifyingly real.

"No!!!"

Ling Hao roared, but he still could not move.

Ling Zhentian's body slowly collapsed, his eyes gradually losing focus, but the smile on his lips never faded. It was his trust in his son, his faith in the Ling Family, and his composure in the face of death.

The scene shifted once more.

On the city wall, his younger sister, Ling Xue, was sealed in Profound Ice. Her body was enveloped in a thick layer of ice crystals, leaving only her pale face exposed. Her eyes were still open, filled with fear and unwillingness. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were trying to say something.

Ling Hao leaned closer and finally heard her clearly.

"Brother... save me..."

"Brother... it's so cold..."

"Brother... where are you..."

Every call of "Brother" was like a knife, carving away at Ling Hao's heart piece by piece.

He wanted to reach out and shatter the ice, but his hand passed right through it, touching nothing. He frantically tried to circulate his spiritual energy, but his body was completely empty—in this illusion, he was merely a Mortal, a powerless bystander.

"This isn't right." Ling Hao forced himself to calm down. "This is an illusion. Father didn't die here, and my sister isn't sealed in ice. None of this is real."

He closed his eyes, trying to dispel those images from his mind.

But the illusion did not vanish; instead, it became even more realistic and intense.

On the city wall, Ling Xiao leapt down, his silver spear striking out like a Dragon, aiming straight for the enemy commander. But his cultivation was only at the Foundation Establishment stage; facing a Soul Transformation realm enemy was like a moth to a flame. The commander sneered and struck with a palm, sending Ling Xiao flying. Ling Xiao's body crashed against the city wall, the sound of splintering bones clearly audible. He struggled to stand, but his legs would no longer obey him.

"Cousin!" Ling Hao roared.

Ling Xiao struggled to lift his head, blood spilling from his lips, yet he grinned. "Brother Hao, I... did my best."

Having said that, his head slumped down.

Ling You was being hunted down and killed in the shadows. He transformed into thirteen Shadow Clones, weaving through the enemy's encirclement. But there were too many enemies, and his Clones were shattered one by one. When his final Clone dissipated, Ling You's true body tumbled out of the shadows, covered in blood and his aura incredibly weak.

"Young Lord," he struggled to reach out a hand, "this subordinate... can no longer protect you..."

A foot stepped heavily onto his hand, the sound of bones snapping clearly audible.

Ling Hao's eyes were already bloodshot. He knew these were all illusions, but every scream, every drop of blood, and every familiar face falling tore at his heart.

Because these were not fabricated out of thin air; they were things that "could happen," his deepest, innermost fears.

The scene changed again.

This time, it was his own death.

Ling Hao saw himself lying in a pool of blood, the nine tokens scattered across the ground. Star Lord Taiyang picked up the tokens from the ground and sneered, "Ling Hao, you have lost after all. The Ling Family? Hmph, this Lord will make it vanish completely from the Eastern Wasteland."

His sister, Ling Xue, was held captive to the side, tears streaming down her face. Ling Xiao's chest was pierced by chains, hanging from a flagpole. Ling You's cultivation had been crippled, struggling in the mud. Ling Zhentian had been beheaded, his head hanging from the city wall.

His entire clan was annihilated.

Ling Hao's body trembled. He knew this was fake, but the impact of the scene was too powerful. It was so strong that it almost made him believe—if he failed in reality, this would be the fate of the Ling Family.

"It's fake!" He suddenly opened his eyes, and the Spear of Fate Reversal condensed in his palm. He could finally move, and with a single sweep of his spear, he shattered the scene before him.

The illusion shattered, dispersing into countless floating specks of light.