Chapter 492

Wang Yu’s gaze sharpened.

In the woman’s hand was a small, white-boned finger.

As it shook, the bone finger erupted in an unfamiliar aura, flickered once, then vanished into the black giant talisman.

The next instant, the giant black talisman wavered and silently drifted downward.

The woman swept her long sleeve, and the massive talisman shrank rapidly, vanishing into her sleeve.

At the same time, the wooden door slowly opened outward, faint white light seeping from within.

“If not now, when?” The woman flickered behind Wang Yu, spoke softly, then slapped his shoulder.

“Puff.”

Wang Yu felt a tremendous force surge from behind; he shifted his intent instantly, offered no resistance, and his body rose involuntarily into the wide-open wooden door.

“Boom.”

Wang Yu felt a swirl of white light before his eyes, his legs suddenly plunged into sand and soil; when he looked up, astonishment flashed across his face.

All around was a vast yellow expanse; as far as his eyes could see, nothing but sand and gravel.

He was standing in a desert.

Wang Yu turned and looked again.

The wooden door that should have been behind him was gone entirely; it was as if he had appeared here directly.

A flicker of surprise crossed Wang Yu’s face; after a moment’s thought, he touched his brow with one finger and released his spiritual sense, sweeping it across the surrounding desert.

But as soon as his spiritual sense left his body by more than a few feet, it grew heavy—so heavy it felt like sinking into mud, moving with excruciating slowness, and the farther it traveled, the heavier it became.

Once his spiritual sense extended beyond ten or so feet, it could not reach any farther.

There’s a restriction!

Wang Yu raised an eyebrow, retracted his spiritual sense, gazed again at the distant emptiness, then his expression turned thoughtful.

Where is the innate spiritual artifact?

Earlier, that Chai He Feng had said the innate spiritual artifact’s form seemed peculiar—each cultivator perceived it differently. Could it truly change its form at will?

As Wang Yu pondered, he looked up at the sky.

The heavens were cloudless, uniformly gray, with only a single yellow halo suspended high above, casting enough light to make the space dim yet still as bright as day.

Wang Yu studied it closely, found nothing unusual, then lowered his head to examine the sand beneath him.

“Puff. Puff.”

He pulled his feet free from the soft sand, leaving two foot-deep pits in the ground—as if this were truly an ordinary desert.

Wang Yu narrowed his eyes.

For some reason, since entering here, he had always felt something was off.

Something felt unbalanced; everything gave him a sense of falseness.

Yes—it was the sound!

Aside from his own noises, the desert was utterly silent.

Not even the wind, nor the rustle of shifting sand, reached his ears.

Wang Yu suddenly looked up again at the yellow halo in the sky and whispered, “Overclock.”

The next instant, deep within his pupils, faint crystalline light appeared; his senses surged, everything around slowed to a crawl, and his mind accelerated at an unimaginable frequency.

In an instant, the gray sky grew sharp, then roughened—everything became overlaid with mosaic-like, semi-transparent crystalline patterns, then blurred beyond recognition.

Without hesitation, Wang Yu formed a hand seal, widened his eyes, and within his pupils appeared a yellow spiritual pattern; everything within his gaze was instantly tinged with a pale yellow aura.

“Crack.”

As the mosaic patterns on the surroundings thickened, everything shattered like glass, revealing a vast new world of birdsong and blooming flowers.

The air was refreshingly clean, the birdsong sweetly melodic, even the scent of grass and trees carried a faint sweetness.

Wang Yu’s pupils contracted; his body froze rigid on the newly appeared grass.

For mere feet before him stood a colossal beast, taller than a ten-story building, staring down at him with unblinking intensity.

The yellow halo he had seen in the sky was, in truth, the beast’s lone remaining eye—yellow and cloudy.

Its other eye was a hollow black pit, long since blind.

The beast’s skin was thick and deeply wrinkled, entirely gray-black, devoid of scales; its mouth was enormous and elongated, its teeth like giant blades; its forelimbs were short but razor-sharp like scythes; its hind legs were thick as steel pillars, and it bore a long, massive tail.

It was a Tyrannosaurus rex—only possible in the Jurassic era of Blue Star.

Wang Yu stared at the nightmare beast buried deep in his memory, almost smelling the foul stench exhaled from its jaws; his limbs grew cold, his chest pounded—but a strange urge to laugh rose within him.

In a cultivation world, a Tyrannosaurus rex—long extinct on Blue Star—appeared before him!

This beast was his childhood nightmare, motionless now like a puppet, yet so lifelike that even in overclock mode, he could detect no trace of falseness.

But this was absurd beyond reason!

At that moment, a light breeze blew—and the Tyrannosaurus rex, a creature from a Blue Star horror film, crumbled piece by piece into ash, dissolving into the wind.

Only a yellow eyeball, the size of an infant’s head, remained—its pupil long and ink-black, still fixed on Wang Yu.

Wang Yu did not move; within his pupils, the yellow spiritual pattern slowly rotated as he stared at the massive eyeball.

But in his overclock vision, the surface of the yellow eyeball was now covered in countless tiny eyes.

All were identical yellow orbs with ink-black pupils—some slowly opening with a lazy gaze, others frantically blinking in warning, still others unmoving yet crisscrossed with blood vessels, radiating murderous intent.

Each of these smaller eyes on the giant eyeball expressed a completely different emotion—enough to make one’s scalp crawl and cold sweat rise down the spine.

Wang Yu’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly he drew a sharp breath.

What the hell is this?

Could this be the so-called innate spiritual artifact of Bishui Palace?

In Wang Yu’s gaze, the eyes on the eyeball began vanishing one by one; in moments, only one half-open eye remained—it slowly rotated on the surface, then transformed into a blurred, crimson, eerie symbol.

The instant Wang Yu’s spiritual sense touched the crimson symbol, his spirit was instantly drawn into it; his gaze could not shift an inch, and his overclocked mind, after a slight pause, automatically began deciphering the unfamiliar crimson symbol—no other thought could enter his mind.