The sound of a number of bodies dropping at once echoed, bouncing off the rocky walls of the canyon.
Huffing, blood-soaked and ridden with wounds, Han Jianyu planted his feet and sheathed his sword, his last attack having reaped six lives.
At his back was a dead-end, nothing but thick, impenetrable stone. Trapping him there was a large group of white-robed cultivators, all stone-faced.
Behind them all, standing on a height, was a more sophisticatedly dressed cultivator, wearing a jade circlet and holding a fan. He giggled in a rather feminine way, unfurling the fan to mask his mouth.
"How sad. I can't believe you haven't figured it out yet, baby boy. Certainly it's not that hard to see." The man said.
Han Jianyu grit his teeth, "Why don't you just... tell me... huh? All you're doing is... pissing me off..."
The white-robed cultivators did not move until the man said, "Once more."
Stepping forward, six more of them made signals with their hands, a bright green energy arising from their bodies.
They cast the spell technique, and Han Jianyu had no choice but to let it reach him.
He had tried every conceivable method to defend himself from it, but nothing had worked.
A film of green light struck his body, doing no immediate physical damage that anyone could see.
However, he groaned and grunted, growled and roared, forcing his eyes to stay open.
"You delay the inevitable. Maybe I was wrong and you are that stupid. Either way, you'll see soon enough." The man said, shutting his fan.
Han Jianyu tried his best, but was yet again unable to fight the drowsiness overcoming him.
Once again, he drew his sword and stabbed himself. That pain gave him the boost he needed to summon his energy and perform another sword slash, sending a powerful sword arc that struck the six cultivators.
Once again, six bodies hit the floor, and Han Jianyu panted heavily once again.
"What... the fuck... is this!?" He roared. "What do you... want from me!?"
The feminine man laughed, folded his arms behind him, and smirked down at Han Jianyu. "I want you to learn. You need to, or else you'll just die for nothing."
Lazily, the leader waved his hand and said, "Let's just finish this. Whether he lives or dies, we'll have done our part."
"Tch!" Han Jianyu tightened his grip and prepared for the next attack. He knew it would likely be the last, and knew that he absolutely had to survive it.
Tranquility washed over the rage and pain in his eyes, and his aura steadied as his breathing followed suit.
He silently returned to peak form, and attacked as soon as he saw the cultivators move.
In an instant, four sword arcs cleaved the air, their ends leaving long gashes on the walls and carving trenches in the floor.
The white-robed cultivators moved in unison, some casting defensive techniques, the rest casting that very same spell technique, green energy surging.
Han Jianyu's sword arcs met an impenetrable battier of brownish light, doing their best to cut through until they were drained of power.
Then, the attack came from the other side, hurtling toward him.
Han Jianyu sucked his teeth, and as that green energy struck him, much more potent than before, he prepared to stab himself once more.
However, he underestimated just how potent this attack would be.
Before he could even angle his blade, the drowsiness completely immobilized him, and he fell over, sword still in hand.
The white-robed cultivators paused when they saw this; their leader sighed, then raised his brows inquisitively.
"Let's see, then. If he doesn't wake up in the next two minutes, then that's a job well done and we can leave."
His men all seemed to relax after hearing that, despite there being no indication in their expressions.
After two minutes, they all returned to his side, and he prepared to activated a talisman that would take them away.
As he did so, he gazed at Han Jianyu's sleeping form and shook his head. "Can't believe he's the one. He's so stupid."
"Would you react any differently in his shoes?" One of the men asked in a monotone, mechanical kind of voice.
"That's not important!"
With the talisman fully activated, they vanished from the canyon, leaving Han Jianyu asleep on the floor with a gentle green glow on his body.
He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but this was not the case...
On the inside, his mind had been kidnapped. The spell technique wasn't just meant to put him to sleep- it brought down his mind's defenses and allowed it to be harmlessly spirited away.
As for where it ended up, he couldn't be sure.
It was a colorful place, for certain. Chaotic streams of color abounded all around, robbing the world of consistency.
He could not tell where the floor was, even though he was standing on it. He looked up, and couldn't discern whether the sky was right in his face or miles away.
He saw nothing but endless colors, and could not discern anything else.
Even so, in spite of what he saw, he knew there was something else. Something he wasn't seeing.
He sat down right where he was, and closed his eyes. "If I can't trust my senses, then I can only trust my soul."
He reached out with his divine will- the power of his soul allowing him to 'see' without eyes.
"Hm? What is this spatial density? It's far more dense here than in even the Jade Heaven." Han Jianyu felt how slowly his divine will was able move.
He knew that he wouldn't be able to see even ten feet away from him with that kind of spatial density.
The restrictive power was too great.
With an exasperated groan, he opened his eyes and looked around again.
"If that won't work... there's only one other option."
He opened his hand and took hold of something that wasn't there, but the very moment his grip tightened, the vague outline of a sword appeared in his hand.
"Perfect. My sword will is still here. That means..." Stabbing forward, Han Jianyu shut his eyes and poured his soul power into the illusory sword.
"... my sword intent should be able to work!"
With that movement, something akin to divine will was dispersed from his sword, becoming one with the world around him.
It reached every inch of it, touching upon all of the numerous colors. In that very moment, his mind received its first clear image of the space he was in.
When he opened his eyes, he no longer saw chaotic streams of color. Instead, he saw a world filled with turbulent storms of black and white, each clashing but never mixing.
To his left, there was nothing but black. To his left, nothing but white. Ahead of him, both the black and white storms met, and at the point on the horizon where they met, he saw a giant object.
Looking closer, he saw that it resembled a stone tablet. As he neared it, he also saw writing on it that he could not understand.
Even so, he committed every single thing to memory. Part of him knew, though, that he couldn't forget even if he tried.
Curious, he walked over to the other side of the stone, but did not see any writing. There was only a smooth, reflective surface.
What puzzled him was the fact that his reflection did not show up. The only thing reflected was the formless sword in his hand.
Hesitating for a bit, he slowly pressed the tip of the sword into the smooth surface. When nothing happened, he gulped.
"Might as well..."
Once again, he filled his sword with soul power and reached out with his sword intent.
That was when everything went dark.
There was the deafening sound of turbulent winds. A sharp, shrill cry.
Something hot. Extremely hot. It burned him- felt like it was searing his flesh.
His head ached. He did not recognize spiritual pain; he had never felt it before.
Amidst all the chaos he experienced in that dream-like state, he heard the faintest whispers- most he couldn't grasp no matter how hard he tried to focus.
"... there is still hope..."
"... close to the enemy..."
"... there is a struggle..."
"... can be convinced..."
With every whisper, his headache worsened- the spritual strain threatening to rip his soul into bits.
He screamed, but could not even hear his own voice in the chaos.
To make it worse, the whispers became louder. Even so, they were no easier to hear.
"... we cannot allow him..."
"... trust the Supreme..."
"... have no choice..."
Eventually, all Han Jianyu could hear was a ringing in his ear that only served to exacerbate his headache.
He screamed, and screamed, and forgot himself in the pain.
At some point he returned to the real world, but he only realized that he did when he felt the sting of a slap on his cheek.
POW!
"Aaahh-" Han Jianyu's screaming came to an end, and he opened his eyes to find Jin Huang staring into them, his own eyes filled with golden energy.
"What the shit is wrong with you, man!? Screaming like that. Jeez!" Jin Huang let go of Han Jianyu's clothes, leaving him to fall into his back.
Han Jianyu blinked, his mind in a mess.
"Pull yourself together, sword cultivator," Hei Shisan took a breath.
Han Jianyu sat up, seeing the entire group encircling him, save for the young boy that had once been with him.
Looking beyond them, he saw that they were standing just before the entrance of the tomb.
Everyone else was standing outside, staring directly at their group. Something in the air felt hostile.
Composing himself while chasing away the remnants of that horrible headache, Han Jianyu tightened his grip on his sword and stood up.
Sharpness returned to his eyes, and he moved toward Jin Huang, Hei Shisan and Lu Chen.
Shen Wuyou gave him a peculiar look as he fiddled with the dice.
Stopping behind the three at the front, Han Jianyu sighed.
"What's the situation, Jin Huang?"