Battle of the Protagonist in Ling Yu: Thousand Illusions

Creepy! Absolutely bone-chilling!

Chen Mo felt like he was facing an enemy of this caliber for the very first time.

Twelve shadow clones, each with a distinct appearance, seemed capable of perfectly replicating the abilities of the deceased.

What made it worse was that these clones could shapeshift at will.

Bang!

He had no idea how long the battle had lasted.

Gasping for breath, Chen Mo leaped back to a corner of the arena.

By now, the battleground was splattered with blood and gore.

His eyes locked onto the twelve shadow clones—still undiminished in number.

Damn it...

I’m still too weak. I haven’t managed to take down even one of them.

No... or rather...

These clones might be unkillable. What he really needed to do was find their true master.

But here was the problem—the moment these monsters summoned their clones, their real body vanished without a trace.

Just as the thought crossed his mind—

Bzzzt!!

A shrill alarm blared from the tactical watch on Chen Mo’s wrist.

This was no ordinary device—it was a spirit-energy detector specially crafted by Ye Qingmei. Right now, the needle representing shadow energy was vibrating wildly.

"Look out!!"

Ye Qingmei lunged forward, grabbing the dazed Chen Mo and rolling sharply to the right.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Dozens of shadowy spikes erupted from the ground where they had just stood.

The obsidian-like protrusions glowed violet under the moonlight, their needle-sharp tips dripping corrosive slime.

One of Ling Yu’s clones—a middle-aged man—hovered at the center of a star-shaped array formed by twelve searchlights. Dark golden patterns pulsed across his bare chest.

"The so-called 'Eyes of True Sight' are nothing special."

His voice dripped with mockery.

"You claim to see the future, don’t you?"

"Then why don’t you take a look at your own?"

With a snap of his fingers, the illusion of an elderly Taoist priest exploded into a mist of blood. The scattered flesh twisted midair, morphing into a swarm of venomous wasps—their stingers gleaming with an eerie blue aura.

A searing pain tore through Chen Mo’s right eye.

His retina flashed with a vision—three seconds from now, the wasps would encircle them from the southeast.

"I see it...!"

He yanked Ye Qingmei back by her belt, hurling three silver daggers with his free hand.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The blades erupted with golden arcs upon impact, scorching the shadow energy and filling the air with the stench of burning darkness.

Catching his breath, Chen Mo gritted his teeth in frustration.

Damn it. He’d overused the Eyes of True Sight tonight.

Any more, and he’d collapse from exhaustion.

"Watch your feet!"

Ye Qingmei suddenly formed a hand seal, summoning a barrier of spiritual energy beneath them.

The ground beneath collapsed into a swamp of shadows, where countless skeletal arms clawed upward—their nails etched with cursed runes.

The moment those hands touched the barrier, a sizzling sound filled the air, but they kept coming, relentless.

Clenching her jaw, Ye Qingmei maintained the barrier while scanning their surroundings.

Then—

A cold laugh echoed through the arena.

"Remember the fire three years ago?"

In an instant, a clone resembling one of Ye Qingmei’s former colleagues materialized outside the barrier—its charred face pressing against the energy shield.

"You left me behind," it shrieked, voice dripping with venom. "I was just three meters behind you... and you ran!"

"Was I not worth saving?!"

Ye Qingmei’s pupils contracted.

For a split second, her spiritual energy faltered.

"N-no... that’s not true," she stammered. "I was out of energy—"

"Liar!"

The shadow swamp surged violently.

In that moment of distraction, a whip made of vertebrae shattered the barrier, lashing straight for her throat.

"Shit—!"

Ye Qingmei instinctively shut her eyes.

But instead of pain, she heard a metallic clang.

Trembling, she opened her eyes—

And gasped in relief.

"Chen Mo?!"

There he stood, his tactical knife barely deflecting the bone whip. Sparks of crimson flew as steel scraped against cursed bone.

"He’s exploiting our memories!" Chen Mo shouted. "That fire wasn’t your fault, Qingmei! Stay focused!"

Blood trickled from his right eye as the Eyes of True Sight pushed past their limits.

Piece by piece, the solution to this nightmare unfolded before him.

Why twelve clones?

Twelve...

Twelve...

Then his vision locked onto a wisp of black smoke.

It was coming from—

Got it!

"Qingmei!" he roared. "The searchlights! They’re the core of these clones—destroy them!"

"On it!"

Ye Qingmei steadied herself, biting her fingertip to draw a blood sigil on her palm.

"By blood I seal, by spirit I break—scatter!"

The moment she finished chanting—

Boom!

A storm of spiritual energy erupted from her, reducing nearby shadow creatures—and one clone—to dust.

She had noticed something.

While the clones couldn’t be killed, reforming took time.

The attack left her drained, collapsing to her knees.

If this didn’t end the fight, she’d have no choice but to use her last resort.

"Nice work!"

Seizing the opening, Chen Mo lunged at the nearest searchlight.

His knife, blazing with golden light, swung toward the lamp post—

Only to meet—

Clang!

The metallic clang sent a painful reverberation through his eardrums.

Yet the lamppost—supposedly made of metal—suddenly softened, morphing into Ling Yu’s face, pieced together like a grotesque jigsaw of playing cards.

"What?!"

Chen Mo’s pupils contracted.

"Clever, so clever. Is this what they call the Chosen One?"

"But what a shame... your game ends here."

Ling Yu’s mocking laughter closed in from all directions.

At the same time, shadowy threads erupted from the lamp’s casing, coiling around Chen Mo’s limbs in an instant and hoisting him midair.

The threads slithered like living things, burrowing under his combat suit and tracing blackened veins beneath his skin.

"Chen Mo!"

Amid Ye Qingmei’s scream, Ling Yu’s true form seeped slowly from the lamppost.

His right hand twisted into a shadowy claw, clamping around Chen Mo’s throat, while his left brushed gently over the young man’s bloodied eyelid. "Such beautiful eyes... When our King arrives, I’ll preserve them as specimens..."

"Ghk—!!"

Agony blurred Chen Mo’s vision. His tactical knife slipped from numb fingers.

Yet... just as consciousness threatened to fade, he caught Ye Qingmei’s resolute gaze—

The signal of their last resort.

Qingmei... I’m sorry...

That it’s come to this...

Drip—!

Another streak of bloody tears slid from his right eye.

I... see a future where we live!

"Let him GO!"

"CHEN MO!"

With a roar, Ye Qingmei pressed her bloodied fingertips to the pendant at her chest. The jade pendant erupted in a blinding emerald light.

This was the [Qi Pendant]—her father’s final gift, his magnum opus.

Its unleashed energy could level entire buildings. And now, after the spiritual resurgence...

It had evolved into something far deadlier—

A [Spiritual Bomb]!!

"BREAK!"

She shattered the pendant with a scream.

BOOM—!!

In an instant, searing green particles surged like a swarm of fireflies, exploding into a storm of sparks between the searchlight beams.

Where Ling Yu’s shadow threads touched the light, they recoiled as if scorched.

Seizing the opening, Chen Mo wrenched free. His knife carved a golden arc through the air, severing the dark veins coiled around him.

He shut his right eye—it needed rest, and fast.