"A Dao Dinsion? Like the Tribulation Dinsion?" Lin Mu asked.
"Indeed, Dao's can have their own dinsion. All that exists there is the very pure essence of the Dao. It is far beyond what Immortals can comprehend and even Celestials would be hard pressed when dealing with it." Xukong explained.
"I don't know how one opened here... Especially one into the Gravity Dao Dinsion. This was probably caused due to an accident. Natural or artificial... that i cannot tell." he spoke.
"What do we do about it?" Lin Mu asked anxiously.
"You need to seal it." Xukong answered. "But sealing one requires more than power. You need resonance."
"Resonance?" Lin Mu echoed.
Xukong opened one eye again. "Yes. The rift must be harmonized with its own frequency. Do not oppose it—sync with it. Once you do, you can weave space around it rather than through it."
"But I don't know its frequency…"
"You will," Xukong said simply. "ditate by its edge. Let your spatial sense flow. The rift will speak to you in its own language. When it does… I will teach you the knot that binds even broken space."
Lin Mu's breath hitched.
Hope.
Real, tangible hope.
He bowed again, deeper this ti.
"Thank you, Master."
Xukong's eyes began to dim once more. "Go now. I must return to the deep… but I will anchor part of my will closer to your mind. If you reach for again… I will hear."
And with that, the light in his ten eyes faded—though not entirely. A subtle shimr remained, like stars lingering at dawn.
Lin Mu turned and left, his heart lightened despite the gravity waiting for him beyond the ring.
***
Lin Mu sat in the depths of the Great Burden Monastery, alone, still, and surrounded by weight heavy enough to crush mountains.
The chamber trembled faintly, and the air itself seed to grind against his skin, compressed by the imnse gravity pouring from the heart of the rift far below. His body endured with ease, but it was not strength that would solve this crisis—it was attunent.
Xukong's words echoed in his mind:
"Do not oppose it—sync with it. The rift will speak to you in its own language."
And so, Lin Mu sat in ditation.
Hour after hour.Day after day.Week after week.
He let go of resistance, relaxing the instincts that had served him in countless battles. Instead of guarding his mind, he opened it. He let the imnse spatial pressure invade every corner of his consciousness. He allowed his spatial perception to drift—not to dissect the rift, but to listen to it.
At first, it was painful. Maddening.
His perception stretched like a thread on the verge of snapping. He couldn't make sense of what he felt—just chaos, instability, tension folding inward on itself in impossible ways.
But as the days passed, the chaos took form. Like learning a new language without words, Lin Mu began to understand.
It wasn't sound. It wasn't vision.
It was rhythm.
A slow, deep pulse.A constant spiral of collapse and rebound.Like a heartbeat from another plane.
The rift pulsed… and Lin Mu pulsed with it.
He had found resonance.
When he erged from ditation, his eyes glead with silver spatial light. The rift still howled, hidden deep within the core chamber of the monastery, but now he could stand before it—not as an enemy, but as sothing it could not reject.
He reached inward, and called out softly.
"Master."
This ti, Xukong answered instantly.
The Void Weaver's voice flowed like a tide of silk.
"You are ready."
Lin Mu bowed his head. "Please, teach ."
From within the ring, ten silver lights ignited. Reality within the Ring twisted and spun, forming an intricate diagram of glowing threads—a formation unlike anything Lin Mu had ever seen.
"This… is the Knot of the Weaver."
The structure was impossibly complex. Threads of spatial energy crossed each other thousands of tis. It wasn't a simple seal, nor a formation. It was a spatial equation, an origami of reality woven into a single, self-sustaining knot.
Xukong's voice deepened, almost solemn.
"This is not a technique known to mortals, immortals, or even celestials. It is my own creation, born from weaving the layers of the Grand Void itself. Without your ring, no being below my Realm could even begin to form it."
The air around Lin Mu shimred with the mory of power.
"And yet you… are different. With the ring as your loom, and your qi as the thread—you can."
The knowledge poured into Lin Mu's mind.
And it almost broke him.
The Knot of the Weaver was like trying to comprehend a fifth dinsion while still bound to the third. Even his immortal mind, bolstered by countless techniques and sutras, reeled from the sheer intricacy of it.
But he did not stop.
Using the ring, Lin Mu practiced. For the first ti, Lin Mu was using Spatial qi directly and not just with his ring's skill!
It was sothing he didn't even know when he had beco capable of.
Each thread of spatial qi had to be woven with perfect timing. Each twist and turn of the knot obeyed laws that didn't exist in normal space.
One mistake would unravel the entire thing.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks beca months.
The monks continued to endure the gravity, but with Lin Mu's sutras supporting them, none collapsed again. ng Bai waited patiently outside in the pavilion Lin Mu had left him, his spirit calm.
In that ti, Lin Mu failed countless tis.
Each failure taught him more. The rift would reject incomplete knots, and its spatial pressure would surge, lashing out violently. But Lin Mu adapted, learning how to redirect the pressure, twist the threads differently, form loops where none should exist.
Eventually, after nearly six months, the impossible happened.
As he stood before the rift again, Lin Mu's hands moved with practiced grace. Threads of space extended from his fingertips, each one precise and alive. They wrapped around the rift like strands of light, sliding into invisible seams.
Twist. Fold. Cross. Bind.
The Knot of the Weaver took shape.
User Comments
0 comments from readers