In the heart of the Inner Landscape, a veil of darkness lay still and profound, as mystical elements silently descended from the realms of the unknown. 0

At first glance, it appeared akin to the fabled inner sanctums, a place of tranquil void, disconnected from the earthly bounds, standing in the clear light of eternity, reminiscent of a bodhisattva's realm in the depths of meditation.0

Wang Xuan's brow furrowed in contemplation; everything seemed real and yet, not. The darkness within the treasure ebbed and flowed, a stillness that was intermittently shattered, incapable of sustaining the clarity of the true inner realms. Most notably, the density of these mystical elements was much sparser than that of the genuine inner sanctums. Could it even measure up to a tenth of his own realm's concentration? It seemed unlikely.0

Glancing back, he saw the pathway entwined with swirling black mists and white vapors, dense with mysterious patterns that wove into each other without rhyme or reason, tangled and complex.0

Had the mighty earth immortals, the feathered ascetics, the Thousand-Handed True Gods—had they all fallen to this intricate trap?0

Standing amidst this enigma, Wang Xuan felt his own status—insignificant as a mote of dust compared to the towering presence of those who had burst apart in their final moments.0

It dawned on him in an instant; the black and white strands of the corridor...0