The Taixu land was not a vacuum, but a logical wasteland constructed from countless shattered definitions. The moment Lin Moyu stepped into it, his right arm blurred and dissolved like ink—this Chaos refused to host any solidified form. Instead of resisting the dissolution, he transformed his melting fingertips into a flowing torrent of paradoxical runes.
The instant these runes touched the ground, they carved a winding river of data through the void! The river water consisted of entangled positive and negative logic, every ripple collapsing and fluctuating between self-proof and self-destruction. Miraculously, thousands of prisms condensed on the crests of the waves.
Inside their mirrored surfaces were not reflections, but billions of contradictory definitions of Lin Moyu's true form: one side mirrored him as a tombstone at the end of entropic silence, while another labeled him as the embryo of a cosmic creation singularity. The prism array rose from the ground like a mountain of blades. Where the mirror edges cut, Lin Moyu's scattered river of data was dismembered into flickering fragments of truth.
Chapter 169