Douluo: Martial Soul White Tiger, I am the White Emperor of Heaven

"Just a reminder, the use of soul skills exceeding the fifth ring is prohibited within the town, and unauthorized approach within three kilometers of the rift is forbidden. A curfew is in effect after 8 PM every night. Violation of any of these rules will result in immediate expulsion and inclusion on the mainland's observation blacklist." The woman returned the identification to her. "I recommend 'Scholar's House' for accommodation; the prices are reasonable, and it's close to the town library."

"Thank you."

Stepping into Northwind Town, Qian Renxue felt the changes of this era more acutely. Shop windows lining the streets displayed goods she had never seen before: foldable soul-guiding screens, personal protective force field generators, and simulated soul ring training devices. Fragments of conversation drifted into her ears:

"The fissure in the northeast region widened by 0.3% last week."

"A recent report from Shrek Academy suggests that the rate of fracture expansion is accelerating."

"The barrier jointly developed by the Tang Sect and the Spirit Pagoda can only slow it down, not stop it."

"I've heard that the first case of 'Hollowing Out Syndrome' has appeared in Heaven Dou City."

Qian Renxue walked towards "The Scholar's House," a small three-story hotel. The receptionist was a middle-aged man, engrossed in repairing a radio that was making static.

"Accommodation, single day or long-term rental?" He asked without looking up.

"Let's stay for a week," Qian Renxue said. "Do you have any quieter rooms?"

"The innermost room on the third floor, with a window overlooking the back mountain, is quiet. It costs 800 Federal Dollars a week, including breakfast."

Qian Renxue paid the fee—Tang Wulin had prepared plenty of money—and took the key. The room was simple but clean, with a bed, a table, a chair, and a small bathroom. She put down her simple luggage and walked to the window.

The hill behind was a gentle slope covered with low shrubs. But her gaze went beyond the slope, reaching into the distance. At the edge of her vision, the color of the sky was off. It wasn't dark clouds, nor mist, but a hollow grayish-white, as if there was nothing beyond that sky. Occasionally, a flash of dark purple would appear in the grayish-white area, disappearing in an instant.

Abyssal rifts. Points where nothingness erodes reality.

Qian Renxue closed her eyes, trying to "touch" that area with her perception of time. But as soon as she extended her perception, she felt a strong dizziness and nausea. It wasn't an energy shock, but a rejection from the level of existence—her perception touched a "non-existence," like putting her hand into a vacuum, the pressure difference almost tearing her consciousness apart.

She immediately snapped out of her daze and leaned against the windowsill, panting.

"Even perception is so dangerous," she murmured.

A knock sounded at the door. Qian Renxue took a deep breath and opened the door. The innkeeper stood outside, holding a tray with a pot of tea and a few biscuits on it.

“I forgot to give you this,” the shopkeeper said. “Every new scholar receives a ‘Rift Survival Guide.’ Not that I’m being nosy, but last month a young scholar, thinking himself a fifth-ring Soul King, secretly approached within two kilometers of the rift, and well, never mind. Anyway, it’s good to take a look.”

He handed over a thin booklet, put down the tray, and left.

Qian Renxue closed the door and opened the booklet. Inside was a simple handwritten guide to photocopying:
Do not look directly at the crack for more than ten seconds.
If you feel inexplicably sad or empty, immediately move away and report it.

Do not enter areas where surrounding flora and fauna show signs of ash formation.
Do not stay outdoors at night. If you encounter a "phantom," do not attack; slowly retreat.
Remember, what you see is not necessarily the truth.

The last sentence is circled in red.

Qian Renxue closed the booklet and sat on the edge of the bed. Outside the window, the sky was gradually darkening, and the town lights were coming on. Those lights looked particularly fragile in the deepening night, as if they might be swallowed up by the grayness in the distance at any moment.

This is the world she must protect. This is where she needs to anchor her future.

But what about the future? The old woman said she needed a "future so solid it's almost a given." It wasn't a vague vision, not a beautiful wish, but a certainty, a choice, a direction she was willing to dedicate her entire existence to.

Qian Renxue pondered, her fingers unconsciously tracing the surface of the wooden table. The wood was rough, with knots and cracks. Authentic. This was what she sought—a genuine sense of existence, a genuine connection, and authentic choices—by relinquishing her divine status and returning as a mortal.

In the dead of night, Qian Renxue awoke from a light sleep. A certain feeling awakened her—not sound, not light, but a tremor on a existential level, like ripples on a calm surface of water.

She got up and walked to the window. The back mountain was shrouded in a hazy moonlight, but there was one difference. Halfway up the mountain, in a thicket of bushes, a faint light flickered. It was not the light of soul power, nor an artificial light source, but a cold, starlight-like cluster of points of light that moved slowly.

Qian Renxue put on her coat, quietly left the room, went downstairs, and walked out of the inn through the back door. The town of Beifeng was eerily quiet at night; not even the chirping of insects could be heard. She followed the path uphill, heading towards the light.

As she got closer, she could see what it was.

A girl, who looked about thirteen or fourteen, stood barefoot in the bushes, wearing only a thin nightgown. The light emanated from her eyes—her eyes were completely filled with that cold starlight, without pupils or whites. She stood there, gazing up at the sky, her lips slightly moving, as if conversing with an unseen being.

What was even more unsettling was her condition. In Qian Renxue's perception of time, the girl's presence was "swaying," like a reflection in water, with blurred edges, sometimes strong and sometimes weak. Moreover, dozens of extremely fine threads extended from her body, all disappearing into the void and connecting towards the distant rift.

“Lost one,” a voice came from behind, “yet another one.”

Qian Renxue turned around and saw a man in a dark blue uniform, the same woman who had been checking things at the town entrance during the day. He looked to be in his thirties, with a tired face, and was holding a device in his hand, its screen displaying complex data.

“My name is Lin Mo, a level-two monitor at the Beifeng Town Observation Station,” the man said in a low voice, his gaze never leaving the girl. “You’re the new visiting scholar today, Xueyan, right?”

“Yes,” Qian Renxue nodded, “What happened to her?”

“Early symptoms of the ethereal syndrome,” Lin Mo’s voice carried a professional calm, but Qian Renxue could detect a suppressed emotion. “Or, we call them ‘rift sensors.’ Some people are particularly sensitive to the erosion of nothingness and will unconsciously approach the rift in their sleep or form some kind of connection with nothingness.”

"Is it dangerous?"

“To her? Not for now. To those around her? Not necessarily.” Lin Mo began operating the instrument, a soft blue light sweeping across the girl. “She has unconsciously become a tiny, ethereal node. If left unattended, she will gradually fade into nothingness and eventually disappear. Before that, the spatial structure around her will be unstable, potentially developing small cracks or attracting ‘phantoms’.”

"What is the phantom?" (End of Chapter)