“What treachery is this?!” The woman’s eyes bulged in stark terror. She recoiled as if struck, darting back hundreds of feet in a heartbeat. Her hands weaved a rapid incantation, unleashing a vibrant cascade of seven colors that enveloped her entirely. This chromatic aura solidified into seven shimmering swords, which whirled around her in a protective vortex.

Behind her, a colossal phantom image materialized – a magnificent seven-hued blossom, unfurling its ethereal petals with a bewitching fragrance that hung heavy in the air.

Wang Lin remained unmoving, his expression impassive. His gaze was fixed on the Seven-Colored Daoist, who emerged from the third deck. The Daoist’s face was a mask of cold indifference. He spoke no words, but with a flick of his wrist, the fourth deck shuddered and groaned. In his hand, a blinding, miniature sun pulsed with ferocious energy!

No larger than his palm, this incandescent orb radiated a searing heat that mimicked the true sun itself. With a mighty heave, he hurled it toward Wang Lin.

Instantly, Wang Lin’s hair erupted in flames. A molten inferno surged through his veins, each agonizing pulse threatening to tear him asunder. He writhed in torment, his features contorted as if his very essence were about to be consumed by the celestial fire.

Yet, his eyes remained pools of glacial calm, betraying no fear or hesitation. He stood resolute as the miniature sun hurtled towards him, the roaring heat swallowing him whole. The woman, watching from afar in disbelief and horror, witnessed the blinding light engulf him completely.

“How can this be…? He’s mad… utterly mad!” But in the next heartbeat, her eyes widened in utter astonishment, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

For there, amidst the incandescent radiance that should have brought annihilation, Wang Lin emerged. He walked forth, step by measured step, untouched by the flames. Not a single strand of hair was singed, his garments bore no mark of fire, and his face was devoid of pain or fatigue. Only a profound, unsettling serenity lingered in his gaze. Serenity… Serenity… Serenity!

“This… all of this is false!” Wang Lin’s eyes closed briefly. With a sweeping gesture of his right hand, the seven-colored light vanished, the miniature sun extinguished. The Seven-Colored Daoist dissolved into nothingness, the fourth deck crumbled away, followed by the third and second, each level unraveling like a forgotten dream.

Finally, the woman herself dissipated, her face frozen in disbelief and confusion as her form faded from existence.

Wang Lin opened his eyes. And as his gaze cleared, he found himself staring at the canvas sail, billowing from the mast on the first deck of the Soul-Devouring Vessel. The ghoulish visage painted upon the sail grinned in grotesque amusement.

His body remained seated in a meditative posture on the first deck, still wreathed in the ancient Daoist’s spectral aura. Nearby, the woman sat similarly, her eyes open, filled with a profound bewilderment.

“So even you were unaware that the events that transpired were but an illusion…” Wang Lin turned to gaze out beyond the vessel. The protective wards glimmered, but beyond them, there was no trace of the seven-colored light, nor the looming figure of the Seven-Colored Daoist.

“Even he… was a fabrication…”

Wang Lin rose in silence. With a final wave of his hand, the ancient Daoist’s phantom faded. He surveyed his surroundings, his gaze settling upon the ghastly sail.

“What has happened…?” The woman’s confusion began to dissipate, replaced by a growing dread. She whirled around, taking in the scene, and a look of stark terror twisted her features.

“The Grand Illusion of the Soul! This is my sister’s most potent art! She seeks to destroy the Seven-Colored One, and she has ensnared us both in her illusion!” This woman was Fan Shanyou. She stumbled back, her face ashen, and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

“The arrival of the Seven-Colored Daoist was a deception. He may indeed be pursuing us, but he is not truly here, before our eyes,” Wang Lin spoke, his gaze unwavering from the grotesque face on the sail.

“You sisters are fascinating. You believe you have orchestrated everything, bringing me here with veiled threats and open demands for my Vow of Blood. Yet, your sister is far more cunning. From the moment I set foot here, she wove a grand illusion, conjuring the pursuit of the Seven-Colored One. This plays into your own schemes, guiding us to this very spot. Then, unbeknownst even to you, she veiled the trap in an illusion within an illusion, making it impossible for me to perceive the truth. Within that deception, I nearly yielded and surrendered my Vow of Blood…”

“Cunning indeed! In all my years, I have encountered few who fill me with such unease and respect. But now, there is one more. Your sister!” Wang Lin spoke with unsettling calm, his voice devoid of emotion.

Fan Shanyou’s face was deathly pale. She pondered over the events, her expression darkening. It became evident that Wang Lin spoke the truth, and she had indeed been caught within her sister’s web of illusion.

“If your sister wields such mastery over illusion, it is likely the Great Soul Sect of the Immortal Astral Continent is renowned for this art. Illusion… Illusion…” Wang Lin took a deep breath.

“The Great Soul Sect’s fame rests upon illusion. However, this art is not for all. My sister possesses a natural aptitude for it, and has mastered the Dual Illusionary Realm! The illusion within an illusion you spoke of is a testament to this. Were she to ascend to the Triple Illusionary Realm, there would be no escape for us,” Fan Shanyou replied softly, her voice tinged with a strange mix of resentment and respect.

“It would seem then that your tale of your sister’s apparent death at the hands of the Seven-Colored Immortal, only to be resurrected by your master, was also a fabrication. She likely never truly died, but shrouded herself in illusion, deceiving the Seven-Colored Immortal himself…”

“Even the events that unfolded between the two Daoist partners in the Immortal Astral Continent may not have been as you described…”

“However, such matters are of no consequence to me!” Wang Lin strode forward, arriving at the mast. His eyes shone with cold resolve. With a swift, powerful motion, he tore the ghastly sail asunder.

“This treasure… I claim it!”

At that instant, in the frozen mountains of the Immortal Astral Continent, the woman seated in meditation amidst the ice screamed and her eyes flew open, spitting a mouthful of crimson blood, and shock registered across her face.

“He broke through my Grand Illusion of the Soul!”

At the same moment, in the strange dimension where the Soul-Devouring Pill resided, in a distant location… the Seven-Colored Daoist sat cross-legged amidst a field of decaying beast corpses. His face twisted in a grotesque dance of pain and ecstasy. Such a twisted expression was extremely rare for him.

It was apparent that from the moment he had entered this space, he too had been trapped within the illusion. Or perhaps, he had willingly succumbed. For, with his power, he could surely break free of this deceit, even if he fell short of Fan Shanmeng’s capabilities.

Why he chose to remain bound within the illusion, only he knew.