Breaking the Illusion

The secluded retreat was a solitary stone house, nestled in a recess in the cliff, with waist-high wild grass growing in front of the door.

The stone house had no windows, only a heavy wooden door. What shone through the crack in the door was not candlelight, but layers upon layers of illusory light, red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple, seven colors overlapping, as if someone had crushed a rainbow and stuffed it into the crack in the door.

The illusory light spilled out from the crack in the door and did not dissipate, but flowed slowly in the air, sometimes condensing into the shape of a bird, and sometimes dispersing into a blurry cloud. Occasionally, extremely faint sounds could be heard coming from the illusory light, like someone talking in their sleep, or like someone humming an out-of-tune tune.

A middle-aged Taoist priest was sitting cross-legged inside the room.

His eyes were closed, his face was peaceful, and there was even a faint smile on his lips, as if he were having a beautiful dream.

His long hair was draped over his shoulders, his Taoist robe was clean and tidy, and his hands were in a mudra on his knees. His posture was so upright that it looked like he was meditating. If it weren't for the ever-flowing illusory light surrounding him, anyone would think he was just asleep.

The illusory light formed a flowing light curtain within three feet of him, with countless images flowing across its surface: mountains and water, moon and clouds, a boy running in the mountains, three fellow disciples sitting around discussing the Dao, drinking alone under the moon, and dancing with a sword among the flowers.

The visuals are beautiful, so beautiful that you can't take your eyes off them, but every scene is repeated, like the same scroll being unfolded over and over again, and you can never turn to the next one.

Occasionally, the Taoist's peaceful and carefree expression would furrow slightly, as if he had touched something he didn't want to face at some moment, but the wrinkle was quickly smoothed out by the illusory light, and he sank back into that warm dream.

The sect leader stood outside the door, not taking another step forward.

He could feel the corrosive power of that illusory light. It didn't attack the physical body or damage the meridians; it simply enveloped him gently, inviting him into a world that was forever sunny and free from pain.

Having lived for 120 years and witnessed countless partings and deaths, he thought his mind was as still as a well. But now, standing on the edge of the illusion, he could feel a gentle tug at the heartstrings, as if a very fine needle had pierced the depths of his memory, bringing up some long-sealed old stories.

He silently recited the Heart-Cleansing Mantra to suppress the restless, dazed feeling.

He then waved his sleeve, and a gentle gust of wind pushed open the wooden door of the stone house, exposing the layers of illusory light inside to the moonlight.

Liu Jin stepped forward, shielding the sect leader behind him. He extended his index finger, and a wisp of extremely thin, ghostly blue flame ignited at his fingertip—the Samadhi True Fire, capable of burning away all things and returning them to their origin.

He gently flicked the wisp of fire into the room, wanting to see how this illusion would react to the pure fire of destruction.

The moment the Samadhi True Fire entered the room, all the illusory lights inside the room trembled simultaneously.

Instead of retreating or dissipating, they all turned towards the direction of the Samadhi True Fire, as if they had smelled something extremely familiar.

Then, the extremely thin blue flame suddenly changed color the moment it came into contact with the outermost layer of illusory light, fading from dark blue to crimson, from crimson to pale gold, and then from pale gold to almost transparent white.

It wasn't corrupted by the illusionary light; it retreated on its own.

It was because the distracting thoughts in the mind were too overwhelming that the divine fire was fed to devour the other two fires, thus forcibly breaking the balance of samadhi.

The divine fire, which had degenerated into pure white, flickered one last time in the illusory light, and then suddenly burned towards the Taoist's brow.

Liu Jin's pupils shrank sharply, and he reached out and grabbed at the air, forcefully extinguishing the divine fire less than an inch from the Taoist's brow.

The Taoist priest frowned slightly, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, sliding down his cheek and dripping onto the Taoist robe on his knee, but he did not wake up.

The illusory light surged up again, evaporating the drop of sweat into a very faint white mist, which then dispersed into the depths of the flowing rainbow light.

The sect leader looked at Liu Jin, his eyes filled with surprise and uncertainty. He had lived for two cycles of sixty years and had never seen anyone make the Samadhi True Fire degrade on its own.

This complex divine soul can even alter the balance of the Samadhi True Fire, so the intensity of this illusion has far exceeded the scope of ordinary inner demon illusions. No wonder the sect leader said that even he dared not step into it.

Liu Jin shook off the remaining warmth of the divine fire from his hands and chuckled awkwardly.

"The Samadhi Fire can burn away all things and return them to their origin. Everything in this illusion is a manifestation of attachment, and attachment itself is also a kind of 'origin.' Samadhi burns attachment, but there are too many attachments, too dense, layer upon layer. After burning one layer, there are still ten layers left. The fire is dragged back by the attachment and degenerates. It cannot be burned forcefully."

He stopped testing him. His left hand lit up with the fire of the moon, as white as frost, the most yin and gentle; his right hand lit up with the fire of the red lotus, as dark red as blood, the most yin and the most hard.

Two clusters of flames slowly approached each other in his palm, merging into a very faint moon-white flame, the Moon Illusion Light.

This time, he did not use the Moon Illusion Light as an attack method, but rather, as if holding a scalpel, he very lightly and slowly probed the flame into the illusion inside the room.

The moment the Moon Illusion Light touched the outermost layer of illusionary light, the illusionary light did not react violently as it had to the Samadhi True Fire. Instead, it trembled slightly and then slowly parted to the sides.

The fire of Yin seeps into the cracks of the soul, and the karmic fire of the red lotus illuminates the root of obsession. Illusion is a manifestation of obsession, and the root of obsession is only one: the person trapped in the center of the illusion.

The Moonlight doesn't attack the illusion; it simply probes in quietly, gently, and irresistibly, piercing through layers of illusory light, through those recurring beautiful dreams and the occasional fleeting pain, pointing directly to the very core of the illusion.

When it finally touched the Taoist's forehead in the center of the illusion, the illusion was like a transparent veil being precisely cut open by a scalpel, neatly splitting into two halves from the center outwards.

The Taoist priest, who had been shrouded in illusionary light, was finally fully exposed to the moonlight. His long hair was disheveled, his face was haggard, and a trace of illusory light still flickered faintly between his brows.

Seizing the opportunity, the sect leader stepped forward and shouted in a booming voice, "Foolish child, wake up!"

This clear shout, imbued with the profound true qi of the Laoshan fetal breathing and qi circulation method, resounded throughout the stone house like a great bell, causing the fragmented illusory light to surge violently, like a stagnant pool of water tossed with a giant rock.

The Taoist priest trembled violently, as if the shout had shattered some obsession that had been repeating itself countless times. His eyelids twitched violently, but he did not open them.

He had been trapped for so many years that even waking up required time to adjust.

The sect leader continued shouting, each shout shattering the illusory light. Only after the third shout did the Taoist finally slowly open his eyes.

There was no earth-shattering commotion, no roaring to the sky, no tears streaming down his face. He simply blinked slowly, like anyone who had taken a long nap, and then stretched.