Chapter 120: Sea of Consciousness Special Training
For the first two days of his recuperation, Lin Yan spent most of his time in the assigned single dormitory.
The room was small and plain, containing only a metal-frame bed and a wooden desk. Embedded in the wall was a thin psychic isolation panel, used to block out the sporadic psychic aftershocks drifting in from the outside. While the bastion was relatively safe, no one could guarantee that the faint signals of the underground illusion web wouldn't seep into the city along with the rift's air currents.
He did not frantically meditate to force a breakthrough.
He kept Lu Heng and Shen Yanqiu's warnings in mind. The hidden injuries left by the Sea of Consciousness shock had not yet faded; a dull pain occasionally flared in his temples. Forcibly mobilizing his Sea of Consciousness power would only leave deeply rooted, incurable hazards. However, he could slowly circulate his ancient martial arts internal energy, letting it flow through his meridians to gradually soothe his physical exhaustion. The red, numb marks on his forearm left by the fungal whip had already faded considerably.
During his free time, he pulled out the paper dossiers issued by the war zone.
They contained records of illusion web cases transmitted from the front lines over the years, densely detailing the characteristics of different types of illusions and psychic infections, along with the handwritten notes left by fallen soldiers. Much of the writing was sloppy, representing hasty realizations penned on the brink of death; every word between the lines was filled with despair.
The more he read, the clearer his own shortcomings became.
His advantages lay in his ancient martial arts physical body and his proficiency in tracing back along the veins. His shortcoming was a lack of orthodox Sea of Consciousness combat methods; when facing large-scale, multi-layered psychic suppression, he had very few options. Last time in the corridor, forcing the two priests to retreat was a desperate gamble that could not be repeatedly replicated.
Early on the third day, his recuperation period ended.
Following the notification, Lin Yan headed to the War Zone Sea of Consciousness Special Training Building.
Like other combat buildings, its exterior walls were reinforced with alloy steel plates, and the entire structure was enveloped in a massive psychic shielding field. Registration at the entrance was strict; every entrant had to verify their identity and test their Sea of Consciousness stability to prevent anyone carrying latent psychic infections from entering.
The instructor who received him was surnamed Wen, a middle-aged woman with mostly gray hair and a silver prosthetic left eye. In her early years, she had fought against priests at the southern bastion. Her Sea of Consciousness was severely damaged, leaving permanent injuries. After withdrawing from the front lines, she dedicated herself to high-risk Sea of Consciousness combat training.
"Colonel Shen gave me a heads-up, and I've read your mission file." Instructor Wen led Lin Yan into an independent training pod. In the center of the pod stood a half-human-height Sea of Consciousness simulator, its casing covered in wiring. "Other students start with basic illusion identification and stabilizing psychic barriers. You don't need to repeat the basics. You have only one subject: how to retain Sea of Consciousness perception and keep your train of thought from being locked under a high-tier, domain-wide psychic stagnation field."
Lin Yan stood in front of the simulator. "You mean the Sea of Consciousness quagmire released by the illusion web matrix?"
"Exactly." Instructor Wen lightly tapped the instrument panel. The optical screen lit up, displaying the stagnation field waveform transmitted by the squad. "This suppression is entirely different from the priests' psychic splinters. Splinters are attacks; you can dodge, endure, or interrupt them. The stagnation field is a rule-level drag. It doesn't tear you apart; it merely slows down the operation of your Sea of Consciousness. Once most cultivators fall into it, their instinct is to fully expand their barriers to resist. The harder they resist, the faster their mental power is consumed, and they quickly exhaust themselves."
She gestured for Lin Yan to sit in the chair before the instrument.
"The simulator can replicate a similar stagnation field environment, with the intensity gradually increased. I will not deploy illusion interference; I will only apply stagnation field pressure. Your goal is not to break through the suppression, but to learn to 'gather.' Shrink your Sea of Consciousness to an extremely small point, maintaining only perception without releasing power outward, to reduce consumption."
Lin Yan sat down as instructed.
A headband-style sensing device gently clipped onto his head, with cool touch points resting against his temples.
"Tell me when you're ready."
"Begin."
In the next second, a heavy, viscous sensation slowly enveloped his consciousness.
It was highly similar to the feeling deep underground in Rift No. 79. His thoughts seemed to sink into thick mud, and the flow of ideas slowed down. Instinctively, he wanted to expand his Sea of Consciousness barrier to resist, but the moment he moved, his mental power was consumed rapidly, and the familiar stinging pain in his temples instantly surfaced.
"Stop!" Instructor Wen's voice came through clearly. "Wrong. Do not resist. The power of the stagnation field is spread across the entire space; the harder you push outward, the greater the pressure you bear. Try to gather inward. Pull all your scattered consciousness together, leaving only a single, fine thread of perception."
Lin Yan forced himself to suppress his instinctive defensive urge.
He slowly gathered his outwardly diffused Sea of Consciousness, tightening it inward bit by bit. This process was extremely difficult. His consciousness was accustomed to spreading out to perceive the surroundings; compressing it inward generated a strong sense of unease, as if he were exposing himself to the darkness.
Once, twice, three times.
Repeated failures.
Sometimes he gathered too hastily, causing his Sea of Consciousness to tremble; other times, his mind unconsciously scattered, getting dragged back by the stagnation field. Time ticked by, with only the steady hum of the instrument in the pod. Instructor Wen did not speak much, only offering brief pointers when he went astray. She did not teach flashy techniques, only tempered his foundation.
The entire morning was spent repeating this exercise.
Near lunchtime, Lin Yan finally grasped a hint of the method.
When he compressed his Sea of Consciousness into a thread as fine as hair, the stagnation field's consumption of him dropped to less than thirty percent of its original rate. He still felt the heavy oppression, but it was no longer enough to drain his mental power in a matter of moments.
Watching the jumping waveforms on the instrument screen, Instructor Wen nodded slightly. "Good comprehension. Many front-line soldiers can't even touch the threshold after half a month of training. But this is only the first layer. The matrix's stagnation field can be stacked with illusions and the priests' psychic attacks. This afternoon, we will add illusion interference."
During the brief midday break, Lin Yan ate simple rations in the training building's cafeteria.
Most of the people in the cafeteria were Sea of Consciousness cultivators, many with an unshakeable exhaustion in their eyes. Sea of Consciousness injuries were invisible, yet far more grueling than flesh wounds; here, it was common to see soldiers who needed long-term stabilizing medication. Some chatted in low voices about the recent warnings received on the Western Front: in several small wasteland rifts, the activity frequency of scaled beasts had quietly increased.
"I heard it's not a large-scale beast tide, but scattered attacks have become more frequent, and patrol teams are taking more casualties."
"The intelligence department suspects the ancient lizard progenitors are adjusting their hunting rhythm. Instead of swarming to attack the bastions, they are nibbling away at the peripheral outposts bit by bit."
Lin Yan sat quietly in the corner, listening without interjecting.
He knew very well that this might be related to the events in Rift No. 79. After suffering a setback, the illusion web matrix might not immediately launch a massive offensive. Switching to a more covert hunting method aligned with its style of patient observation and slow planning.
The difficulty of the afternoon training doubled.
The stagnation field continued to shroud his Sea of Consciousness while the simulator simultaneously deployed illusions. The scenes switched randomly: his deceased master from the mountain, the phantoms of the fallen soldiers in the cave, and the sinister silhouettes of the two priests in the corridor. The illusions no longer merely created fear; they exploited the gaps when he focused on gathering his Sea of Consciousness, prying at the emotional vulnerabilities in his heart.
Several times, he nearly had his mind pulled by the illusions. The moment his Sea of Consciousness loosened, the stagnation field took advantage of the gap, and the pressure surged.
Starting over again and again.
Lin Yan slowly grew accustomed to this dual pressure: his core of consciousness remained tightly gathered and unmoving, relying solely on that single thread of perception to distinguish reality from falsehood, his emotions remaining unruffled. The methods of guarding the heart and stabilizing the breath from his ancient martial arts gradually merged with the Sea of Consciousness gathering technique, complementing each other.
By evening, the training ended.
Removing the sensing headband, Lin Yan let out a long breath, his back completely soaked in cold sweat.
"That's it for today." Instructor Wen turned off the instrument. "We will continue at the same time tomorrow. I have arranged seven days for this training. After seven days, whether you can stabilize it depends entirely on yourself. One more piece of advice: you excel at tracing back to break the web. This is your killing move, but also your weakness. The ancient lizard progenitors have already noted your fighting style. In the future, their illusion webs will undoubtedly set traps specifically targeting your tracing method."
Lin Yan solemnly committed it to memory. "I understand."
Leaving the training building, it was already dusk.
The murky haze over the bastion still hadn't dispersed; the setting sun could only cast a dim orange halo. He walked back to his dormitory along the street, receiving a communication message from Lu Heng: the rest of the squad had finished resting, returned to the team, and commenced regular wasteland patrol duties. The message ended with a reminder: the wasteland has been restless lately; maintain strict vigilance when going out.
He stopped and looked up toward the west of the bastion, the direction where the wasteland and countless earth rifts stretched.
The illusion web matrix deep underground, the two injured priests, and the ancient lizard progenitors that had lurked there for hundreds of millions of years. This war of attrition would not stop because of a single training session or the destruction of a single node.
His Sea of Consciousness was still stuck at the second tier.
Today's high-intensity mental tempering had constantly pushed him to the edge of pressure, yet it still hadn't reached that life-and-death desperate situation sufficient to break through his realm.
Lin Yan gently clenched his fist.
He was not anxious.
The closer he got to a breakthrough, the less he could rush. Every bit of experience he accumulated now, every practice of guarding his mind in the stagnation field and illusions, was paving the way for that inevitable life-and-death tempering.
Meanwhile, deep underground, beneath Rift No. 79.
The purple patterns of the fungal carpet had flourished again after several days of recuperation. The tentacles of the two priests were mostly repaired. Crouching in the matrix's shadow, they received intelligence transmitted from various parts of the illusion web.
The scattered scaled beast squads on the wasteland had already set out under new orders.
They were no longer in a rush to attack fiercely. Instead, they went out to capture live specimens and collect samples of human Sea of Consciousness fluctuations. The matrix was digesting Lin Yan's combat patterns, deducing more illusion web structures to counter his tracing methods.
A more exquisite web was slowly being woven in the darkness.
End of Chapter.
The room was small and plain, containing only a metal-frame bed and a wooden desk. Embedded in the wall was a thin psychic isolation panel, used to block out the sporadic psychic aftershocks drifting in from the outside. While the bastion was relatively safe, no one could guarantee that the faint signals of the underground illusion web wouldn't seep into the city along with the rift's air currents.
He did not frantically meditate to force a breakthrough.
He kept Lu Heng and Shen Yanqiu's warnings in mind. The hidden injuries left by the Sea of Consciousness shock had not yet faded; a dull pain occasionally flared in his temples. Forcibly mobilizing his Sea of Consciousness power would only leave deeply rooted, incurable hazards. However, he could slowly circulate his ancient martial arts internal energy, letting it flow through his meridians to gradually soothe his physical exhaustion. The red, numb marks on his forearm left by the fungal whip had already faded considerably.
During his free time, he pulled out the paper dossiers issued by the war zone.
They contained records of illusion web cases transmitted from the front lines over the years, densely detailing the characteristics of different types of illusions and psychic infections, along with the handwritten notes left by fallen soldiers. Much of the writing was sloppy, representing hasty realizations penned on the brink of death; every word between the lines was filled with despair.
The more he read, the clearer his own shortcomings became.
His advantages lay in his ancient martial arts physical body and his proficiency in tracing back along the veins. His shortcoming was a lack of orthodox Sea of Consciousness combat methods; when facing large-scale, multi-layered psychic suppression, he had very few options. Last time in the corridor, forcing the two priests to retreat was a desperate gamble that could not be repeatedly replicated.
Early on the third day, his recuperation period ended.
Following the notification, Lin Yan headed to the War Zone Sea of Consciousness Special Training Building.
Like other combat buildings, its exterior walls were reinforced with alloy steel plates, and the entire structure was enveloped in a massive psychic shielding field. Registration at the entrance was strict; every entrant had to verify their identity and test their Sea of Consciousness stability to prevent anyone carrying latent psychic infections from entering.
The instructor who received him was surnamed Wen, a middle-aged woman with mostly gray hair and a silver prosthetic left eye. In her early years, she had fought against priests at the southern bastion. Her Sea of Consciousness was severely damaged, leaving permanent injuries. After withdrawing from the front lines, she dedicated herself to high-risk Sea of Consciousness combat training.
"Colonel Shen gave me a heads-up, and I've read your mission file." Instructor Wen led Lin Yan into an independent training pod. In the center of the pod stood a half-human-height Sea of Consciousness simulator, its casing covered in wiring. "Other students start with basic illusion identification and stabilizing psychic barriers. You don't need to repeat the basics. You have only one subject: how to retain Sea of Consciousness perception and keep your train of thought from being locked under a high-tier, domain-wide psychic stagnation field."
Lin Yan stood in front of the simulator. "You mean the Sea of Consciousness quagmire released by the illusion web matrix?"
"Exactly." Instructor Wen lightly tapped the instrument panel. The optical screen lit up, displaying the stagnation field waveform transmitted by the squad. "This suppression is entirely different from the priests' psychic splinters. Splinters are attacks; you can dodge, endure, or interrupt them. The stagnation field is a rule-level drag. It doesn't tear you apart; it merely slows down the operation of your Sea of Consciousness. Once most cultivators fall into it, their instinct is to fully expand their barriers to resist. The harder they resist, the faster their mental power is consumed, and they quickly exhaust themselves."
She gestured for Lin Yan to sit in the chair before the instrument.
"The simulator can replicate a similar stagnation field environment, with the intensity gradually increased. I will not deploy illusion interference; I will only apply stagnation field pressure. Your goal is not to break through the suppression, but to learn to 'gather.' Shrink your Sea of Consciousness to an extremely small point, maintaining only perception without releasing power outward, to reduce consumption."
Lin Yan sat down as instructed.
A headband-style sensing device gently clipped onto his head, with cool touch points resting against his temples.
"Tell me when you're ready."
"Begin."
In the next second, a heavy, viscous sensation slowly enveloped his consciousness.
It was highly similar to the feeling deep underground in Rift No. 79. His thoughts seemed to sink into thick mud, and the flow of ideas slowed down. Instinctively, he wanted to expand his Sea of Consciousness barrier to resist, but the moment he moved, his mental power was consumed rapidly, and the familiar stinging pain in his temples instantly surfaced.
"Stop!" Instructor Wen's voice came through clearly. "Wrong. Do not resist. The power of the stagnation field is spread across the entire space; the harder you push outward, the greater the pressure you bear. Try to gather inward. Pull all your scattered consciousness together, leaving only a single, fine thread of perception."
Lin Yan forced himself to suppress his instinctive defensive urge.
He slowly gathered his outwardly diffused Sea of Consciousness, tightening it inward bit by bit. This process was extremely difficult. His consciousness was accustomed to spreading out to perceive the surroundings; compressing it inward generated a strong sense of unease, as if he were exposing himself to the darkness.
Once, twice, three times.
Repeated failures.
Sometimes he gathered too hastily, causing his Sea of Consciousness to tremble; other times, his mind unconsciously scattered, getting dragged back by the stagnation field. Time ticked by, with only the steady hum of the instrument in the pod. Instructor Wen did not speak much, only offering brief pointers when he went astray. She did not teach flashy techniques, only tempered his foundation.
The entire morning was spent repeating this exercise.
Near lunchtime, Lin Yan finally grasped a hint of the method.
When he compressed his Sea of Consciousness into a thread as fine as hair, the stagnation field's consumption of him dropped to less than thirty percent of its original rate. He still felt the heavy oppression, but it was no longer enough to drain his mental power in a matter of moments.
Watching the jumping waveforms on the instrument screen, Instructor Wen nodded slightly. "Good comprehension. Many front-line soldiers can't even touch the threshold after half a month of training. But this is only the first layer. The matrix's stagnation field can be stacked with illusions and the priests' psychic attacks. This afternoon, we will add illusion interference."
During the brief midday break, Lin Yan ate simple rations in the training building's cafeteria.
Most of the people in the cafeteria were Sea of Consciousness cultivators, many with an unshakeable exhaustion in their eyes. Sea of Consciousness injuries were invisible, yet far more grueling than flesh wounds; here, it was common to see soldiers who needed long-term stabilizing medication. Some chatted in low voices about the recent warnings received on the Western Front: in several small wasteland rifts, the activity frequency of scaled beasts had quietly increased.
"I heard it's not a large-scale beast tide, but scattered attacks have become more frequent, and patrol teams are taking more casualties."
"The intelligence department suspects the ancient lizard progenitors are adjusting their hunting rhythm. Instead of swarming to attack the bastions, they are nibbling away at the peripheral outposts bit by bit."
Lin Yan sat quietly in the corner, listening without interjecting.
He knew very well that this might be related to the events in Rift No. 79. After suffering a setback, the illusion web matrix might not immediately launch a massive offensive. Switching to a more covert hunting method aligned with its style of patient observation and slow planning.
The difficulty of the afternoon training doubled.
The stagnation field continued to shroud his Sea of Consciousness while the simulator simultaneously deployed illusions. The scenes switched randomly: his deceased master from the mountain, the phantoms of the fallen soldiers in the cave, and the sinister silhouettes of the two priests in the corridor. The illusions no longer merely created fear; they exploited the gaps when he focused on gathering his Sea of Consciousness, prying at the emotional vulnerabilities in his heart.
Several times, he nearly had his mind pulled by the illusions. The moment his Sea of Consciousness loosened, the stagnation field took advantage of the gap, and the pressure surged.
Starting over again and again.
Lin Yan slowly grew accustomed to this dual pressure: his core of consciousness remained tightly gathered and unmoving, relying solely on that single thread of perception to distinguish reality from falsehood, his emotions remaining unruffled. The methods of guarding the heart and stabilizing the breath from his ancient martial arts gradually merged with the Sea of Consciousness gathering technique, complementing each other.
By evening, the training ended.
Removing the sensing headband, Lin Yan let out a long breath, his back completely soaked in cold sweat.
"That's it for today." Instructor Wen turned off the instrument. "We will continue at the same time tomorrow. I have arranged seven days for this training. After seven days, whether you can stabilize it depends entirely on yourself. One more piece of advice: you excel at tracing back to break the web. This is your killing move, but also your weakness. The ancient lizard progenitors have already noted your fighting style. In the future, their illusion webs will undoubtedly set traps specifically targeting your tracing method."
Lin Yan solemnly committed it to memory. "I understand."
Leaving the training building, it was already dusk.
The murky haze over the bastion still hadn't dispersed; the setting sun could only cast a dim orange halo. He walked back to his dormitory along the street, receiving a communication message from Lu Heng: the rest of the squad had finished resting, returned to the team, and commenced regular wasteland patrol duties. The message ended with a reminder: the wasteland has been restless lately; maintain strict vigilance when going out.
He stopped and looked up toward the west of the bastion, the direction where the wasteland and countless earth rifts stretched.
The illusion web matrix deep underground, the two injured priests, and the ancient lizard progenitors that had lurked there for hundreds of millions of years. This war of attrition would not stop because of a single training session or the destruction of a single node.
His Sea of Consciousness was still stuck at the second tier.
Today's high-intensity mental tempering had constantly pushed him to the edge of pressure, yet it still hadn't reached that life-and-death desperate situation sufficient to break through his realm.
Lin Yan gently clenched his fist.
He was not anxious.
The closer he got to a breakthrough, the less he could rush. Every bit of experience he accumulated now, every practice of guarding his mind in the stagnation field and illusions, was paving the way for that inevitable life-and-death tempering.
Meanwhile, deep underground, beneath Rift No. 79.
The purple patterns of the fungal carpet had flourished again after several days of recuperation. The tentacles of the two priests were mostly repaired. Crouching in the matrix's shadow, they received intelligence transmitted from various parts of the illusion web.
The scattered scaled beast squads on the wasteland had already set out under new orders.
They were no longer in a rush to attack fiercely. Instead, they went out to capture live specimens and collect samples of human Sea of Consciousness fluctuations. The matrix was digesting Lin Yan's combat patterns, deducing more illusion web structures to counter his tracing methods.
A more exquisite web was slowly being woven in the darkness.
End of Chapter.