The Moonlit Spirit Sect stirred with quiet excitement. Lanterns swayed from tall beams, casting gentle ripples of light across the marble plaza. Banners bearing mirror-shaped sigils fluttered in the summer wind, and disciples whispered with hushed awe. The Mirror of Heaven Trial had come—a sacred rite held once every five years to expose the truth within the heart and test the resilience of the Dao.
Within the sect's eastern peak, the Mirror Courtyard stood veiled behind eight layers of formation arrays. Ancient and sacred, the courtyard was paved in silver-veined obsidian, every line channeling spiritual energy toward the central dais, where the Mirror itself awaited.
The inner disciples gathered in a wide arc, each clad in ceremonial robes, expressions solemn beneath the weight of what was to come. This was no ordinary test. It was a reckoning.
Lin Wuxie—quiet and unreadable—stood among them. His robes were ink-dark and embroidered with silver threads that danced like fragmented runes. A faint wind ruffled his shoulder-length hair, tied loosely with a band of pale silk. His golden-brown eyes passed over the crowd, stopping briefly on Mei Yao, who stood a few steps away, head bowed in stillness.
She appeared composed, yet Lin Wuxie could sense it—that subtle tremble beneath her calm. Her hands were clasped tightly around her mirror pendant, knuckles pale from strain.
"She will either shatter," he murmured to himself, "or shine."
"Did you say something, Brother Lin?" came a calm voice beside him.
Lin Wuxie turned slightly. Shen Ziyao stood with her arms folded, her immaculate white and gold robes contrasting with her crimson eyes, which were as sharp as a blade beneath the glinting sunlight. Her presence burned cold, righteous and precise.
"Only admiring the view," he replied smoothly. "The heavens always reward clarity."
She narrowed her eyes. "We'll see how clear your mirror is."
Before he could retort, a bell tolled.
Elder Sun Zhen stepped onto the dais, his aura steady as mountain stone. "Disciples. The Mirror of Heaven awaits. Let your truths rise, and your masks fall."
Behind him, the Mirror—an ancient slab of crystal half the height of a man—lifted itself from the ground. Its surface was cracked and dull at first, like old stone. But as Elder Sun whispered an invocation, it shimmered to life—liquid silver light blooming across its surface like a rising tide.
"Let the trial begin," he said. "Step forward when called."
One by one, disciples approached. Some left with tears streaming down their faces. Others stumbled, their cultivation shaking from inner doubt. One even collapsed in terror and was carried away in silence.
Then—
"Lin Wuxie, disciple of Outer Peak—step forward."
A hush rippled through the courtyard.
"Wait... isn't he just a sweeper?" a voice muttered among the crowd.
"Outer Sect? What's someone like him doing here?"
"Did Elder Sun make a mistake?"
All eyes turned.
Lin Wuxie moved without haste. Each step across the black stone was deliberate, almost graceful. He stopped before the Mirror, lifting his gaze as it rippled to reflect him.
At first, the surface showed only his present form. Then it shifted.
His reflection wore coarse rags. Dirt caked his skin. His eyes were hollow, desperate, filled with hunger and confusion. This Lin Wuxie had no power. No lies. No stolen knowledge. Just a discarded mortal forgotten by fate.
Lin Wuxie stared.
'So this is who I might've been... had I never touched the Beyonder pathway. Had I never looked beyond the veil. Never killed, never deceived. Never devoured my brother.'
For a heartbeat, he felt that old coldness—the truth of vulnerability. The kind of fear that came before he was Amon.
'I remember the name they gave me—Mr. Error. The Uninvited Guest. A lie made flesh.'
'I wasn't yet a god. But even the Kings of Angels feared my whims.'
'Now this? A truth where I was no one? Just another soul bound by fate?'
His lips curled into a faint smile.
"No," he said softly. "I am not your reflection. You are mine."
The Mirror shuddered. The image cracked like glass struck by a chisel, and then broke apart in silence.
Murmurs spread across the courtyard. Elder Sun Zhen's brows lifted ever so slightly.
Shen Ziyao watched him with sharpened interest.
Lin Wuxie bowed to the Mirror, then stepped aside.
"Mei Yao," the elder called.
She stepped forward slowly, the mirror pendant around her neck pulsing with faint light.
The Mirror rippled again, revealing a quiet girl kneeling beside an elder's chair. Her eyes were hollow, her lips smiling without joy. Her spirit, chained. A servant, voiceless. Obedient.
Mei Yao froze.
'That was almost me... The version they wanted. Quiet. Dull. Forgotten.'
'I ran away. I trained alone. I claimed a Dao without anyone's blessing.'
'But deep down... do I still carry that version of myself?'
Her hands trembled at her side.
The mirror brightened, as if to magnify her doubt.
"No," she said, voice quiet but unyielding. "That girl died when I left. I am not her."
Her pendant flared with light.
The reflection screamed, the sound echoing like glass tearing through silk—and then it shattered, leaving only dust.
The courtyard fell into a stunned silence.
Elder Sun Zhen gave the faintest of nods.
"Shen Ziyao."
She walked like a general, her steps crisp and steady. As she stood before the Mirror, it reflected something monstrous—her own image, clad in blood-streaked robes, standing atop a field of burning corpses. Her eyes were wild, her mouth chanting the laws of judgment.
The real Shen Ziyao stared at the image without blinking.
And though her face remained composed, her hand… trembled.
Just once.