The access was not sealed.
That was the first thing Lin Ye confirmed when they descended from the rooftop and entered the side street indicated by the Threshold. There were no visible formations, no guards, no spiritual barriers. The path was too open, as if someone had deliberately removed the obstacles.
"They're guiding us," Su Yanlin said in a low voice. "And I don't like it."
"Neither do I," Lin Ye replied. "But if I ignore it, they'll close off another route."
They moved on.
With every step, Lin Ye's body protested a little more. Not with sharp pain, but with a growing resistance, as if something inside him were trying to prevent him from going any further. The Sutra of the Fragmented Threshold reacted with constant warnings, layered one on top of another.
"Transition not recommended."
"Insufficient operational margin."
"Coherence risk: high."
"Don't force it," Su Yanlin whispered. "If you cross wrong—
"I'm not going to cross," Lin Ye replied. "I'm going to slip."
He stopped in front of what appeared to be a solid wall. There was no door. No crack. And yet the Threshold clearly indicated a minimal interruption—the exact space between "here" and "not here."
"There's someone on the other side," he said. "And they want me to see them."
He activated the Eye of the Threshold only at the instant of transition.
The world did not bend.
It did not break.
He blinked.
Lin Ye took a step… and he was no longer on the street.
The room was narrow and elongated, lit by low lamps that cast shadows that were far too orderly. The air was still, heavy, as if it had been used many times and never renewed.
Su Yanlin entered behind him with a muffled curse.
"This isn't a hideout," she said. "It's a control corridor."
Before Lin Ye could respond, something activated.
Not a trap.
A memory.
The world around them overlapped with another moment: repeated footsteps, voices already spoken, movements that did not belong to the present. Shadows of prior actions slid through the corridor, retracing paths with mechanical precision.
"Temporal Echo…" Lin Ye murmured. "It's forcing continuity."
The bearer revealed himself at the end of the corridor.
A young man with a pale face, bright eyes reflecting irregularly, as if they were observing several scenes at once. On his forehead, a barely visible symbol pulsed with a steady rhythm.
"You're late," he said calmly. "But you arrived as I expected."
"Where is the boy?" Lin Ye asked bluntly.
The man smiled.
"Close," he replied. "Close enough that every decision you make will carry weight."
Su Yanlin stepped forward.
"Release him," she ordered. "It's not in your interest to face us here."
"I don't plan to face you," the man replied. "I plan to demonstrate."
He raised his hand.
The corridor filled with echoes.
Attacks that had already happened repeated themselves in shadow: cuts that didn't touch, blows that didn't land… but that forced them to move exactly as before.
"He doesn't create anything new," Lin Ye said, forcing the analysis. "He only repeats."
"Exactly," nodded the bearer of the Eye of the Temporal Echo. "And you, Lin Ye… you can't do the same thing twice without breaking."
Lin Ye's body trembled. The margin was dropping fast.
"Su Yanlin," he said. "Don't try to attack."
"I'm not going to stand still," she shot back.
"If you attack," he continued, "he already knows how it fails."
The bearer took a step forward.
"The boy will be released," he said, "if you cross the entire corridor without using your power."
Silence fell.
Su Yanlin turned her head toward Lin Ye.
"That's a trap," she whispered.
"I know," he replied. "But it's a measurable one."
He took a deep breath and took the first step.
The echo of the previous step overlapped, forcing him to adjust his balance. The second step was worse. The third tore a spasm of pain up his spine.
"Stop," Su Yanlin warned.
"No," Lin Ye said through clenched teeth. "If I use the Threshold here… I'll lose it."
Halfway down the corridor, the margin had almost vanished.
Then it happened.
One of the echoes didn't line up.
It was minimal. A fraction of a second out of sync. A memory that didn't fit with the rest.
The Eye of the Threshold reacted on instinct.
It didn't open a path.
It corrected.
The corridor trembled.
The bearer of the Temporal Echo frowned for the first time.
"What did you do?"
Lin Ye didn't answer. He couldn't. Blood filled his mouth and the world narrowed.
But the broken echo had left something behind.
A door.
It hadn't been there before.
And behind it, Lin Ye felt a familiar presence.
"He's there," he said, his voice broken.
The bearer of the Eye stepped back.
"That shouldn't exist…"
The door began to open.
The door did not open immediately.
That was the first thing Lin Ye confirmed as the world around him continued to tremble irregularly. It was not a normal door: it did not respond to force, nor to intent, nor even to direct perception. It existed because it should not exist, and that contradiction kept it closed.
The bearer of the Eye of the Temporal Echo stepped back once more.
"That…" he said tensely, "was not in any repetition."
The shadows in the corridor began to desynchronize. The echoes that had once moved with mechanical precision now collided with one another, repeating actions in the wrong order, like poorly edited memories.
Su Yanlin seized the moment.
She did not attack.
She moved.
A clean lateral shift, outside known trajectories. The Temporal Echo tried to react… and failed. Not because she was faster, but because there was no prior memory of that movement.
"So that's the limit," she said coldly. "You can't repeat what never happened."
The bearer clenched his teeth.
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "He won't make it in time."
Lin Ye barely heard him. The pain had passed the manageable threshold and was becoming something more dangerous: disorder. The Sutra of the Fragmented Threshold flickered in and out of his awareness, throwing incomplete warnings.
"Bodily coherence: unstable."
"Reactive use detected."
"Accumulated debt."
"Focus," Lin Ye murmured to himself. "Don't cross… decide."
He took another step forward.
The door reacted.
It didn't fully open, but it let something escape: a rush of cold air, heavy with fear, sweat… and fresh blood.
"Lin Ye!" a familiar, broken voice cried. "Don't… don't come!"
Lin Ye's heart jolted.
"Tao Wen," he said.
The bearer of the Temporal Echo immediately raised his hand.
"Enough."
The echoes collapsed toward a single point, trying to force one final repetition: a direct attack, already executed in another timeline, aimed at Lin Ye's weakened body.
Su Yanlin stepped in without thinking.
The blow hurled her into the wall with a dull crack.
"Yanlin!" Lin Ye shouted.
The margin vanished.
It didn't shrink.
It didn't tighten.
It was exhausted.
The Eye of the Threshold activated on its own.
Not to move.
Not to attack.
To stop.
The instant between impact and consequence froze for an impossibly brief fraction of time. It was not a Domain. It was not a complete technique.
It was a reflex act of the boundary.
Lin Ye's body couldn't endure it.
He felt something tear inside him—not flesh, but structure. Blood poured from his nose, his ears. His vision turned white.
But the attack… did not happen.
The bearer of the Temporal Echo dropped to his knees, clutching his forehead.
"What… what did you do?" he gasped. "That instant had already passed!"
Lin Ye could barely stay conscious.
"No," he whispered. "I stopped it from passing."
The door finally gave way.
It burst open.
Inside, Tao Wen was bound to a metal chair, covered in minor wounds, alive… but clearly at his limit. He lifted his head when he saw them, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"You came…" he murmured. "You really came…"
Lin Ye took a step toward him… and fell to his knees.
Su Yanlin, staggering, managed to get up and rush to Tao Wen to free him.
"We have to go," she said urgently. "Now."
The bearer of the Temporal Echo slowly rose, his expression twisted between fury and something more dangerous: fear.
"This isn't over," he said. "You broke a protected sequence. Someone is going to want explanations."
Lin Ye didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The Threshold slammed shut inside him, leaving only one clear and terrifying sensation:
He had survived… but the price had not yet been fully paid.
Su Yanlin hoisted Tao Wen onto her shoulder and looked at Lin Ye.
"Move," she ordered. "Even if you have to crawl."
Lin Ye clenched his teeth and tried to stand.
Behind them, the door began to close on its own.
Too fast.