Chapter 174: A Glimpse into the Abyss
The healing pod was located on the third underground floor of the general hospital. The entire floor had undergone multi-layered vibration and psychic radiation isolation. Inside the thick alloy pod, a pale milky-white nourishing fluid was fully charged. Gentle origin factors slowly seeped in through the pores of his skin, gradually soothing his agitated and damaged Sea of Consciousness.
According to Scholar Su's arrangement, Lin Yan was to soak here continuously for seven days. He was to maintain a state of light sleep throughout, avoiding active thought or the mobilization of any Sea of Consciousness power, to allow the expanded fissure time to scab over naturally.
The pod lid slowly closed, shutting out the noisy clamor of the outside world.
Only the faint sound of the fluid flowing and his own steady heartbeat remained.
For the first few hours, the stabbing pain in his Sea of Consciousness was still distinct, like a wound that itched and ached when touched. Following instructions, he emptied his mind, only circulating the ancient martial breathing technique taught by his master to purely nourish his physical body's qi and blood, not daring to touch the fissure that spanned across his Sea of Consciousness. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, and his consciousness gradually sank into a hazy state between sleep and wakefulness.
In his dream, there were no scaled beasts, no smoke of gunpowder, and no terrified youths from the academy.
He found himself in an endless, purely thick darkness. This was not the murky fog of the wasteland, nor the enclosed space of the rift caverns with their rock walls and dampness. It was a dead silence, a void without up or down.
There was no light, no sound, yet he knew with absolute clarity that something was watching him.
It was not the cold, cunning psychic fluctuation of a secondary priest, full of predatory desire, nor the heavy, slow consciousness of the karst Elder, carrying the weight of ancient habitation.
This consciousness was vast and indifferent, like a mountain range that had slept deep within the earth's crust for hundreds of millions of years. It released no illusions, launched no attacks, and could barely be called a "gaze." It was more like a human briefly glancing down and accidentally spotting an ant in a stone crevice—casual and entirely uninterested. Yet, just this single wisp of overflowing residual wave caused the fissure in Lin Yan's Sea of Consciousness to tremble violently, completely beyond his control.
The fear did not come from images flashing in his mind; it was instinctual.
A primordial shudder from the depths of the soul, experienced when a lowly form of life faces a colossal, unfathomable entity.
Its thoughts had no language, only countless fragmented scenes flowing through the darkness: the ancient era before the earth cracked open, the lush forests on the surface, the long years its species had lurked beneath the rock strata, the rifts tearing open one by one, humanity's initial panicked resistance, the slow construction of high walls, the cultivation of the Sea of Consciousness... Every fragment of the twenty-five years of slaughter seemed to fall under its observation.
All the priests, Elders, and scaled beasts were merely tentacles extending from it.
All previous feints, ambushes, anchor point infiltrations, and beast tide diversions were not the independent initiatives of scattered individuals. Everything was permitted and observed by this colossal consciousness. They did not care about local victories or defeats, nor about an Elder dying in battle or a priest fleeing wounded. Sacrificing a portion of lower-tier individuals was simply a way to test the resilience of humanity's defense lines and probe the limits of the cultivators.
Lin Yan wanted to retreat, to pull back his perception, but between sleep and wakefulness, he couldn't control his own consciousness.
The entity in the abyss merely brushed past his faint wisp of psychic power. It made no deliberate attempt to inflict harm, yet the newly half-healed wound in his Sea of Consciousness instantly transmitted tearing, agonizing pain. Vaguely, he caught a blurry thought—
[The fissure is a very good vessel.]
A single, brief intent. It carried no joy, no anger, no malice, yet it left Lin Yan shivering with icy terror.
It had seen his innate Sea of Consciousness fissure and understood the nature of this wound. Other cultivators had complete, dense Seas of Consciousness, making it difficult for alien psychic power to take root. But he was born with a gap. He was sensitive to alien fluctuations, and simultaneously, he naturally possessed the potential to be parasitized, to carry deeper spiritual imprints.
Previously, the Elder and the priest had merely used his fissure as bait. But the existence deep in the abyss saw other hidden uses for this fissure.
"Leave..."
Lin Yan silently muttered in the darkness, exhausting his remaining mental strength to break free backward.
The vast, indifferent consciousness did not pursue. It merely gently withdrew its overflowing residual waves. The endless darkness instantly faded, and the coolness of the milky-white fluid once again enveloped his body. The soft glow of the healing pod pierced through his eyelids.
He suddenly opened his eyes, his chest heaving violently, cold sweat soaking the lining of the pod as he gasped for air. His Sea of Consciousness was still trembling; that vast, cold sense of presence was firmly etched into his perception, impossible to shake off.
The alarm light outside the pod flickered faintly. The monitoring researcher from the research institute on duty immediately stepped forward, peering at him through the observation window: "Lin Yan? Your Sea of Consciousness waveform suddenly spiked violently just now. We detected abnormal fluctuations on our end! What happened?"
Lin Yan steadied his breathing and didn't speak immediately.
He didn't know how to describe that fleeting glimpse. If he reported it truthfully, would the research institute isolate him, treating him as a hazard that could detonate at any moment? That thing was hidden too deep; even Scholar Su, with years of dedicated research on the alien race, might not have confirmed its true existence.
"Just a nightmare. An illusion impact," he answered in a low voice after careful consideration. "I dreamed of being surrounded by scaled beasts in an underground rift."
The monitoring researcher was half-believing, half-doubting. After recalibrating the instruments and confirming that the Sea of Consciousness fluctuations were slowly subsiding, he recorded the data and turned to report to Scholar Su.
Not long after, Scholar Su pushed open the door and walked into the healing room. The old scholar held the complete intelligence dossier transmitted from the southern outpost the previous night, his expression grave.
"The secondary priest that escaped on the southern line—we tracked it with our deployed psychic buoys, and the signal finally disappeared at the entrance of the deep-level tunnel descending from Rift No. 79. It didn't stay in the shallow breeding zone; it went directly to a deeper level." Scholar Su sat beside the pod and spoke slowly. "We previously assumed that the karst Elder was the highest command in Rift No. 79, and that the area would fall into chaos once the Elder died. It seems now that the Elder was merely a mid-level node. There are higher-tier Ancient Progeny further down."
Lin Yan's heart sank. The consciousness in the dark abyss just now perfectly matched this news.
"The research institute just re-discussed the assault plan," Scholar Su continued. "The original plan was to deploy elites for a surprise attack on the priest's rock pedestal and destroy the incubation chambers. Now, we've shelved the direct assault. The priest fleeing into the deep levels is essentially handing us an invitation to a trap. Rashly leading a team deeper down would very likely result in us crashing headfirst into an enemy nest far beyond our estimates."
"So we're not taking the initiative to attack anymore?"
"Not giving up, just changing the approach." Scholar Su pointed at the rift cross-section diagram drawn in the dossier. "We plan to deploy a long-term oscillation blockade array to seal off the shallow outward-spreading channels of Rift No. 79, trapping the remaining scaled beasts inside and cutting off the route for the breeding zone to send out beast tides. At the same time, we'll dispatch extremely small-scale, rotating scout squads to monitor only the outer perimeter, absolutely refusing to venture into the lower levels, slowly mapping out the structure of the deep tunnels to confirm exactly what tier of Ancient Progeny is hiding in there."
The old scholar paused and looked at Lin Yan in the pod, his tone solemn: "This mission carries extreme risk. The scout squads need perception-type cultivators. But you are not on the candidate list. Your Sea of Consciousness cannot withstand another wash of deep-level alien consciousness right now. The waveform anomaly detected just now is a warning. For the next seven days, your only task is to heal."
Lin Yan nodded slightly, not arguing.
He was clear about his current state. That single glance just now had nearly exhausted the origin he had just barely stabilized.
After Scholar Su left, the healing pod returned to rest mode.
He closed his eyes again, but could no longer sink into a peaceful light sleep. His mind repeatedly replayed that indifferent consciousness in the abyss, and that silent judgment: [The fissure is a very good vessel.]
Since descending the mountain, his native fissure had been his gift, a sharp tool to detect alien signals in advance, helping his squad escape danger numerous times in desperate situations. But only at this moment did he realize that this gift was also the biggest bait hanging over his head.
The supreme existence deep underground had remembered him.
The seven days of quiet recovery passed slowly.
The fluid soaked his Sea of Consciousness day after day. The torn wounds slowly scabbed over, and the pain shifted from continuous burning to a faint, dull ache. Every day, Chen Ye would find time to come over, bringing him news from the outside: the second round of global screening inside the bastion had ended without finding a second psychic anchor point; scattered scaled beast scouts continued to roam the buffer zone on the wasteland; and the components for the blockade array were being continuously transported to the mid-section of the Western Front, preparing to be deployed around Rift No. 79.
On the evening of the seventh day, the healing procedure concluded.
The pod lid slid upward. Lin Yan supported himself against the pod wall and slowly stood up. His physical strength had mostly recovered, but his Sea of Consciousness could never return to its state before encountering the karst Elder. Even a gentle focus of his mind could clearly trace the widened, deeper fissure, like a scar that would never heal, spanning deep within his consciousness.
Scholar Su was waiting outside, holding the latest Sea of Consciousness scan report.
"Barely stabilized," the old scholar said with a sigh, looking at the report. "But this fissure can never be restored. In future cultivation, every breakthrough, every confrontation with alien psychic power, will carry risks several times greater than for other cultivators. You need to think clearly: do you still want to continue down this path of Sea of Consciousness cultivation? You can apply for a transfer to logistics, so you no longer have to face the rifts and beast tides directly."
Lin Yan raised his eyes and looked out the window of the general hospital. Through layers of buildings, he could see the towering walls of the West Bastion. Outside the walls, the gray fog churned, and deep beneath the earth, that existence in the abyss was still quietly lurking.
He thought of the youths at the academy, the fallen new recruits at the southern outpost, and the teammates who sacrificed themselves in Rift No. 79.
"I'll continue."
Scholar Su fell silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "Alright. I'll arrange a new position for you, assigning you to the outer perimeter scout rotation sequence. You will only be responsible for long-range perception and early warning, not participating in frontal assaults, and strictly forbidden from venturing into the lower levels of the rift alone. Also, remember one thing: the moment you perceive an ancient consciousness far surpassing the tier of priests or Elders, retreat immediately. Do not attempt to investigate, do not attempt to make contact."
Lin Yan gripped his palm tightly.
He didn't tell Scholar Su that he had already seen that consciousness.
A much larger chess game had long been laid out deep underground, beyond human sight. Rift No. 79 was merely a tentacle extending from the abyss to the shallow levels. The blockade array, the scout reconnaissance, the bastion defense lines—perhaps all of humanity's arrangements were under the gaze of that colossal existence.
Night slowly enveloped the bastion.
His rest was over, and he was about to return to his unit, joining the scout rotation on the outer perimeter of the rift.
This time, he knew exactly what kind of terror awaited at the end of the road.
End of Chapter.
According to Scholar Su's arrangement, Lin Yan was to soak here continuously for seven days. He was to maintain a state of light sleep throughout, avoiding active thought or the mobilization of any Sea of Consciousness power, to allow the expanded fissure time to scab over naturally.
The pod lid slowly closed, shutting out the noisy clamor of the outside world.
Only the faint sound of the fluid flowing and his own steady heartbeat remained.
For the first few hours, the stabbing pain in his Sea of Consciousness was still distinct, like a wound that itched and ached when touched. Following instructions, he emptied his mind, only circulating the ancient martial breathing technique taught by his master to purely nourish his physical body's qi and blood, not daring to touch the fissure that spanned across his Sea of Consciousness. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, and his consciousness gradually sank into a hazy state between sleep and wakefulness.
In his dream, there were no scaled beasts, no smoke of gunpowder, and no terrified youths from the academy.
He found himself in an endless, purely thick darkness. This was not the murky fog of the wasteland, nor the enclosed space of the rift caverns with their rock walls and dampness. It was a dead silence, a void without up or down.
There was no light, no sound, yet he knew with absolute clarity that something was watching him.
It was not the cold, cunning psychic fluctuation of a secondary priest, full of predatory desire, nor the heavy, slow consciousness of the karst Elder, carrying the weight of ancient habitation.
This consciousness was vast and indifferent, like a mountain range that had slept deep within the earth's crust for hundreds of millions of years. It released no illusions, launched no attacks, and could barely be called a "gaze." It was more like a human briefly glancing down and accidentally spotting an ant in a stone crevice—casual and entirely uninterested. Yet, just this single wisp of overflowing residual wave caused the fissure in Lin Yan's Sea of Consciousness to tremble violently, completely beyond his control.
The fear did not come from images flashing in his mind; it was instinctual.
A primordial shudder from the depths of the soul, experienced when a lowly form of life faces a colossal, unfathomable entity.
Its thoughts had no language, only countless fragmented scenes flowing through the darkness: the ancient era before the earth cracked open, the lush forests on the surface, the long years its species had lurked beneath the rock strata, the rifts tearing open one by one, humanity's initial panicked resistance, the slow construction of high walls, the cultivation of the Sea of Consciousness... Every fragment of the twenty-five years of slaughter seemed to fall under its observation.
All the priests, Elders, and scaled beasts were merely tentacles extending from it.
All previous feints, ambushes, anchor point infiltrations, and beast tide diversions were not the independent initiatives of scattered individuals. Everything was permitted and observed by this colossal consciousness. They did not care about local victories or defeats, nor about an Elder dying in battle or a priest fleeing wounded. Sacrificing a portion of lower-tier individuals was simply a way to test the resilience of humanity's defense lines and probe the limits of the cultivators.
Lin Yan wanted to retreat, to pull back his perception, but between sleep and wakefulness, he couldn't control his own consciousness.
The entity in the abyss merely brushed past his faint wisp of psychic power. It made no deliberate attempt to inflict harm, yet the newly half-healed wound in his Sea of Consciousness instantly transmitted tearing, agonizing pain. Vaguely, he caught a blurry thought—
[The fissure is a very good vessel.]
A single, brief intent. It carried no joy, no anger, no malice, yet it left Lin Yan shivering with icy terror.
It had seen his innate Sea of Consciousness fissure and understood the nature of this wound. Other cultivators had complete, dense Seas of Consciousness, making it difficult for alien psychic power to take root. But he was born with a gap. He was sensitive to alien fluctuations, and simultaneously, he naturally possessed the potential to be parasitized, to carry deeper spiritual imprints.
Previously, the Elder and the priest had merely used his fissure as bait. But the existence deep in the abyss saw other hidden uses for this fissure.
"Leave..."
Lin Yan silently muttered in the darkness, exhausting his remaining mental strength to break free backward.
The vast, indifferent consciousness did not pursue. It merely gently withdrew its overflowing residual waves. The endless darkness instantly faded, and the coolness of the milky-white fluid once again enveloped his body. The soft glow of the healing pod pierced through his eyelids.
He suddenly opened his eyes, his chest heaving violently, cold sweat soaking the lining of the pod as he gasped for air. His Sea of Consciousness was still trembling; that vast, cold sense of presence was firmly etched into his perception, impossible to shake off.
The alarm light outside the pod flickered faintly. The monitoring researcher from the research institute on duty immediately stepped forward, peering at him through the observation window: "Lin Yan? Your Sea of Consciousness waveform suddenly spiked violently just now. We detected abnormal fluctuations on our end! What happened?"
Lin Yan steadied his breathing and didn't speak immediately.
He didn't know how to describe that fleeting glimpse. If he reported it truthfully, would the research institute isolate him, treating him as a hazard that could detonate at any moment? That thing was hidden too deep; even Scholar Su, with years of dedicated research on the alien race, might not have confirmed its true existence.
"Just a nightmare. An illusion impact," he answered in a low voice after careful consideration. "I dreamed of being surrounded by scaled beasts in an underground rift."
The monitoring researcher was half-believing, half-doubting. After recalibrating the instruments and confirming that the Sea of Consciousness fluctuations were slowly subsiding, he recorded the data and turned to report to Scholar Su.
Not long after, Scholar Su pushed open the door and walked into the healing room. The old scholar held the complete intelligence dossier transmitted from the southern outpost the previous night, his expression grave.
"The secondary priest that escaped on the southern line—we tracked it with our deployed psychic buoys, and the signal finally disappeared at the entrance of the deep-level tunnel descending from Rift No. 79. It didn't stay in the shallow breeding zone; it went directly to a deeper level." Scholar Su sat beside the pod and spoke slowly. "We previously assumed that the karst Elder was the highest command in Rift No. 79, and that the area would fall into chaos once the Elder died. It seems now that the Elder was merely a mid-level node. There are higher-tier Ancient Progeny further down."
Lin Yan's heart sank. The consciousness in the dark abyss just now perfectly matched this news.
"The research institute just re-discussed the assault plan," Scholar Su continued. "The original plan was to deploy elites for a surprise attack on the priest's rock pedestal and destroy the incubation chambers. Now, we've shelved the direct assault. The priest fleeing into the deep levels is essentially handing us an invitation to a trap. Rashly leading a team deeper down would very likely result in us crashing headfirst into an enemy nest far beyond our estimates."
"So we're not taking the initiative to attack anymore?"
"Not giving up, just changing the approach." Scholar Su pointed at the rift cross-section diagram drawn in the dossier. "We plan to deploy a long-term oscillation blockade array to seal off the shallow outward-spreading channels of Rift No. 79, trapping the remaining scaled beasts inside and cutting off the route for the breeding zone to send out beast tides. At the same time, we'll dispatch extremely small-scale, rotating scout squads to monitor only the outer perimeter, absolutely refusing to venture into the lower levels, slowly mapping out the structure of the deep tunnels to confirm exactly what tier of Ancient Progeny is hiding in there."
The old scholar paused and looked at Lin Yan in the pod, his tone solemn: "This mission carries extreme risk. The scout squads need perception-type cultivators. But you are not on the candidate list. Your Sea of Consciousness cannot withstand another wash of deep-level alien consciousness right now. The waveform anomaly detected just now is a warning. For the next seven days, your only task is to heal."
Lin Yan nodded slightly, not arguing.
He was clear about his current state. That single glance just now had nearly exhausted the origin he had just barely stabilized.
After Scholar Su left, the healing pod returned to rest mode.
He closed his eyes again, but could no longer sink into a peaceful light sleep. His mind repeatedly replayed that indifferent consciousness in the abyss, and that silent judgment: [The fissure is a very good vessel.]
Since descending the mountain, his native fissure had been his gift, a sharp tool to detect alien signals in advance, helping his squad escape danger numerous times in desperate situations. But only at this moment did he realize that this gift was also the biggest bait hanging over his head.
The supreme existence deep underground had remembered him.
The seven days of quiet recovery passed slowly.
The fluid soaked his Sea of Consciousness day after day. The torn wounds slowly scabbed over, and the pain shifted from continuous burning to a faint, dull ache. Every day, Chen Ye would find time to come over, bringing him news from the outside: the second round of global screening inside the bastion had ended without finding a second psychic anchor point; scattered scaled beast scouts continued to roam the buffer zone on the wasteland; and the components for the blockade array were being continuously transported to the mid-section of the Western Front, preparing to be deployed around Rift No. 79.
On the evening of the seventh day, the healing procedure concluded.
The pod lid slid upward. Lin Yan supported himself against the pod wall and slowly stood up. His physical strength had mostly recovered, but his Sea of Consciousness could never return to its state before encountering the karst Elder. Even a gentle focus of his mind could clearly trace the widened, deeper fissure, like a scar that would never heal, spanning deep within his consciousness.
Scholar Su was waiting outside, holding the latest Sea of Consciousness scan report.
"Barely stabilized," the old scholar said with a sigh, looking at the report. "But this fissure can never be restored. In future cultivation, every breakthrough, every confrontation with alien psychic power, will carry risks several times greater than for other cultivators. You need to think clearly: do you still want to continue down this path of Sea of Consciousness cultivation? You can apply for a transfer to logistics, so you no longer have to face the rifts and beast tides directly."
Lin Yan raised his eyes and looked out the window of the general hospital. Through layers of buildings, he could see the towering walls of the West Bastion. Outside the walls, the gray fog churned, and deep beneath the earth, that existence in the abyss was still quietly lurking.
He thought of the youths at the academy, the fallen new recruits at the southern outpost, and the teammates who sacrificed themselves in Rift No. 79.
"I'll continue."
Scholar Su fell silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "Alright. I'll arrange a new position for you, assigning you to the outer perimeter scout rotation sequence. You will only be responsible for long-range perception and early warning, not participating in frontal assaults, and strictly forbidden from venturing into the lower levels of the rift alone. Also, remember one thing: the moment you perceive an ancient consciousness far surpassing the tier of priests or Elders, retreat immediately. Do not attempt to investigate, do not attempt to make contact."
Lin Yan gripped his palm tightly.
He didn't tell Scholar Su that he had already seen that consciousness.
A much larger chess game had long been laid out deep underground, beyond human sight. Rift No. 79 was merely a tentacle extending from the abyss to the shallow levels. The blockade array, the scout reconnaissance, the bastion defense lines—perhaps all of humanity's arrangements were under the gaze of that colossal existence.
Night slowly enveloped the bastion.
His rest was over, and he was about to return to his unit, joining the scout rotation on the outer perimeter of the rift.
This time, he knew exactly what kind of terror awaited at the end of the road.
End of Chapter.