"Don't bother looking; there's nothing down there. Since you have the ability to come here, surely you know that every level of the Mandala is merely a single thought. If you truly understood what thought is, you wouldn't be looking for its origin."

The mysterious figure spoke beside me, his voice deep and imbued with a certain air of authority.

Yet, even hearing this, I remained confused, as the concept of 'thought' felt so ethereal and empty. How could mere thought possibly form actual architecture?

Seeing my dazed expression, the man remarked, "I know what you're thinking. You believe thought is nothingness."

It was then that I finally asked, "Isn't it?"

Instead of answering, the figure countered, "What do you think a person is?"

His question stumped me, leaving me speechless for a moment. After a brief pause, I managed to reply, "A person... a person is a form of intelligent being."

The man nodded slowly. "Indeed. The reason humans are called humans is because they possess wisdom, and wisdom is a form of Nian (Thought/Intention). If a person lacked wisdom, they would be like a leaf or a clod of mud. In that case, would anything in this world still hold meaning for that person?"

I frowned, something seeming to click, and said, "I understand what you mean. This is idealism. Whether a person is a leaf or mud, the material world still objectively exists out there."

The man continued to nod. "You are correct; they do exist. But do they still hold meaning for the person? When you are merely a leaf, unable to see or hear, you have no way of knowing the world exists. Nian is wisdom, it is hearing, it is seeing, it is everything in the world. Everything in existence is Nian, and Nian can form anything, such as the Mandala you see before you."

Hearing this, I froze, sensing that something he said was fundamentally wrong, yet I couldn't pinpoint the flaw in his logic.

"You—!" The word caught in my throat. After holding it back for a long moment, I finally managed, "What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

Ignoring my question, the man pressed on, "Why is the armor empty?"

I blinked, asking, "What armor?"

Immediately, I recalled the armored figures in the lowest level's expanse. I amended my question, "Oh, you mean why?"

The man explained, "Many famous, named individuals once wore that armor. Back then, they possessed Nian. But when the Nian vanishes, the armor becomes hollow."

"You mean those people died?" I interjected.

"Death?" The figure seemed to let out a small, dry laugh.

"Are you suggesting that death is merely a beginning?" I suddenly recalled the theories peddled by second-rate thinkers on television.

The man shook his head instead. "I ask you this: What is the difference between a person with permanent amnesia and a dead person?"

I answered almost instantly, "Of course there's a difference. A person with amnesia is still alive."

The figure gave a cold sneer. "If you don't remember the people who raised you, and even if others tell you about your past experiences, you can't truly believe they happened to you, can you still call yourself you? Permanent amnesia and death are the same, because that person's soul has been annihilated. Therefore, what is called death is not the termination of the physical body, but the cessation of a Nian."

His words compelled me to think deeply. There was a strange logic to what he was saying, yet I still couldn't grasp why he had led me here only to repeat the word "Nian" incessantly.

However, what he said next seemed to begin making some sense to me.

Because the mysterious figure continued, "Space created by Nian can only be entered by those who harbor that Nian. Furthermore, not every level of this Mandala can be accessed; only those who hold the specific Nian corresponding to a level can enter it."

I frowned and asked, "Are you implying that the few of us here all harbor the Nian of killing?"

The mysterious man didn't answer my question, but said instead, "We don't have much time. I brought you here because I hoped you would leave this place quickly."

I was momentarily stunned and asked, "Why?"

The mysterious figure turned and continued walking forward, stating, "Follow me."

I watched as he ascended along the copper plating that encircled the Mandala, seemingly aiming for the very apex of the sphere, and followed suit.

Indeed, it took us about twenty minutes of winding ascent to reach the summit of the sphere.

The wind at the top was fierce. Although the sun was bright, I felt intermittent waves of chilling cold.

Standing there, the surrounding scenery was laid out below us, and I realized that the vista from this height didn't match what I expected from a mere hundred meters.

The vast, continuous mountain ranges and the dense forests below looked no larger than a fingernail, and white clouds drifted slowly past us, almost at our level.

A suffocating pressure tightened my chest. The climb, which hadn't been overtly strenuous, had left me slightly breathless.

Looking at the spectacle, I wondered just how high we had climbed. I usually only experienced altitude sickness around four thousand meters.

"Did you see it?" the mysterious man beside me asked.

I took several deep breaths and asked, "See what? The elevation?"

The mysterious man didn't look at me, instead gazing ahead, "This entire section of the Mandala is slowly ascending into the cosmos. If you don't hurry back down to the level below, you will soon die from the changes in pressure and oxygen."

His words shocked me, and I demanded, "How could that happen?"

The masked figure fell silent, head bowed as if in deep thought. After a moment, he finally said, "The Rules are being rebooted. All Nian will gradually vanish from the Earth. This is the system's natural protection protocol. If Nian disappears, the Divine Hall loses its purpose for existence, and thus it will revert to the Primordial Chaos (Hunyuan)."

Hearing him speak of Rules, I urgently pressed, "What Rules exactly? What is Hunyuan? Why does everyone keep talking about Rules?"

The mysterious man looked at me, and I thought I caught a flicker of expectation in the eyeholes of his mask.

He clapped my shoulder and said, "Only you can change all this. Don't worry, someone will guide you. You only need to act according to your own will. Remember, you possess the most powerful Nian in the world. Use it well."

I didn't understand his meaning and hastily asked again, "What does that mean? Can you be clearer?"

The masked man looked at me for a long silence before saying, "There’s no more time. Someone is calling you. Grandpa can only help you this far. Goodbye, Xiao Chuan."

As he finished speaking, his shadow abruptly began to fade, growing dimmer until it slowly lifted away on the wind.

"You are... Grandpa?" I was finally jolted into realization, reaching out to grab him, but my hand closed on empty air.

"Grandpa!" I cried out, trying to lunge toward where he stood, but my collar was suddenly seized by a hand.

I turned to see it was Da Xiong.

Da Xiong, still in his pajamas and yawning widely, grumbled, "What kind of dream are you having, shouting like that at the tent entrance? Are you trying to stop us from sleeping? Go! Get back in and sleep, I’ll stand watch."

I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and glanced around, realizing I was still among the gravestones of the Mandala, enveloped only by deep darkness.

Xiao Ge and Nie Chuan had also been awakened by my shouting and stood behind me, silent.

Feeling embarrassed, I mumbled, "N-no... my apologies. I'll stand guard instead. I swear I won't fall asleep again."

The three of them looked at me, their eyes full of concern.

I waved my hand again. "It's really fine! Go back to sleep!"

Only then did the three return to their tents.

I sat where I was and checked my phone; only ten minutes had passed.

To think I had experienced such a long dream in just ten minutes.

I pondered it, feeling that the dream was unnervingly real. I couldn't tell if what my dream-Grandpa said held any truth.

With that thought, the air around me suddenly felt incredibly oppressive, just like suffering from altitude sickness—my breathing grew labored.