Was this death?
Or a dream too stupid to end?
Was I me? Or was I you?
Did I come here… or was I summoned?
I don't remember.
I don't try to.
Maybe memory is a curse… and forgetting is worse.
I was "Lin Shuo."
Just a worthless university student, obsessed with cultivation novels.
I used to escape into stories, wearing the skins of protagonists in my mind.
Telling myself: "One day… you'll wake up there."
In the world of cultivation, with talent, a system, a destiny.
And one night — a night no different than the others — truth shattered.
The glass cracked.
My skull cracked.
The sky cracked.
Voices fell.
Trumpets blared.
Screens flashed.
And then — white.
Then red.
Then nothing.
No color.
No sound.
No self.
Only a void… that ate me.
And then I woke up.
Woke up on the ground.
Not Earth.
Not home.
The land here breathed.
Trees bent like the fingers of long-dead gods.
The sky was a wounded mirror.
The wind whispered names of the forgotten.
Insects laughed.
I laughed with them.
I thought it was a game.
I thought I was the protagonist.
I thought I was the protagonist.
I thought I—
The protagonist.
.
.
.
But fate laughed.
The sky laughed.
The young master who stomped on my chest laughed.
He looked down and said:
"Who? You?"
I had joined a sect called "Black Star Sect."
They said I was gifted.
Said I had a rare dao body.
They smiled.
I believed them.
But I've never seen anyone smile like a killer smiles.
The first master taught me how to breathe.
The second, how to focus.
The third, how to burn.
No one taught me how to survive betrayal.
I had a brother, Lin Yang.
They said the heavens chose him.
And I was nothing but a typo in prophecy's script.
They laughed.
I laughed too.
I laughed until my throat tore.
Then came the day.
The day I would finally become a true cultivator.
I reached the Heart Planting stage.
I saw the flower bloom inside me.
Then… a hand reached in.
And crushed it.
His hand.
Mo Xing.
The young master.
Son of an elder.
Eyes like dead ice.
Heart like sweet poison.
He stood over me, held my cultivation heart like a rotten fruit.
Said something I didn't hear…
but felt in my soul:
"This isn't your fate."
Then crushed it.
CRAAAAACK.
The core exploded inside my ribs.
I bled inward.
My soul tore like wet paper.
The girl I loved—
she said, "Trust me."
I gave her everything.
A secret.
A hidden inheritance.
A devil's legacy.
A sword.
Blood.
A shattered mirror.
She took it.
She gave it to him.
And my heart broke.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
I fell.
I bled.
I laughed.
Then I cried… quietly.
.
.
.
I don't know how long I lay there.
But the valley was filled with corpses.
And my face was warm with betrayal's blood.
My chest—hollow.
My eyes saw nothing but her smile.
"You were dreaming, Lin Shuo...
This world is not your novel."
"You're not the protagonist."
And then
He came.
I didn't see him walk.
Didn't hear his steps.
But suddenly—he was there.
Tall. Thin.
Wearing a straw hat that hid his face.
A silence followed him like a faithful dog.
His voice?
Sounded like mine.
But twisted… like me in a broken mirror.
"Lin Shuo…"
My name.
In my voice.
From his mouth.
Blood froze.
He said:
"Do you know what hurts more than death?"
Silence.
Then:
"Remembering your face… when no one else does."
He knelt beside me.
I saw a smile.
But not a face.
He said:
"Give me your face… and I'll make them remember."
"I'll make them see you in every mirror, every shadow, every nightmare."
"I'll make them scream your name… even if it's not yours."
I whispered: No…
He said:
"Liar."
He touched my face.
And the world collapsed.
I collapsed.
I screamed.
Screamed everything.
Then
I went quiet.
.
.
.
When I opened my eyes again…
I was standing.
But it wasn't my body.
Not my breath.
Not my heart.
I saw a devilish sword in the ground.
I remembered her betrayal.
His smirk.
Their laughter.
And I had no face.
I was no one.
But I was everyone.
Was I Lin Shuo?
Was I Liu Jian?
Was I a shadow?
Was I a nightmare?
.
.
.
The mirror spoke to me.
I saw my reflection.
No features.
No eyes.
No mouth.
No "me."
The face of no one.
And the face of no one… smiled.