By nightfall, Lạc Hương Town was usually quiet, like a dream fading at dawn. But tonight, a strange chill drifted in with the wind through the bamboo groves—cold as the breath of an unsettled soul.
At the end of the village, in old Madam Vân's home, flickering lamplight cast dancing shadows across the walls. A copper mirror hung crooked above a wooden altar, its reflection warped as if time itself were trembling.
Madam Vân chanted softly, eyes fixed on the mirror.Then—her reflection vanished.
In its place stood a middle-aged woman with unkempt hair and blood trailing from the corners of her mouth, grinning with sinister glee.
Madam Vân collapsed unconscious.
The next morning, the entire village buzzed with fear. No one dared step foot into the room with the ancient mirror. Priests and doctors alike turned away, muttering about "unrested souls" and "cursed relics."
A child whispered:
"Uncle Lăng Tiêu is weird... He drew a charm last week and a snake spirit exploded in the village well!"
No one laughed.
And so they called Lăng Tiêu.
He didn't refuse. Though recently, his mind had been more tangled than the clouds over Mount Kunlun, from where he had once soared to the heavens.
Standing before the old woman's home, Lăng Tiêu didn't rush inside. He ran his fingers across a charm drawn in chicken blood above the door, then sighed:
"The yang energy here is waning. Something… is beckoning what should not be called."
He muttered an incantation in Ancient Immortal Tongue:
"One Dust, One Shadow—Mirror of Ghost Reflection—Silence!"
A charm was slapped onto the mirror. It glowed red—then shattered.
And in the shards, three shadows emerged.
One was laughing, clad in purple robes, hair like silver threads—Lăng Tiêu during his prime, newly entered the Man-Ascension Stage, arrogant and untouchable.
One was weeping, covered in wounds, eyes blinded with blood—Lăng Tiêu after the Great Tribulation, when his entire sect was wiped out for defying Heaven.
The third figure stood silent—expression empty, like a vessel waiting for a soul.This was his Soul Remnant—fragments of memory, emotion, and Dao left behind in the Immortal Realm when he fell to the mortal world.
"So... my soul fragments still linger?"
A bone-chilling laugh echoed:
"You live... but not whole. We are the missing pieces."
Soul remnants can be absorbed. But they can also devour.
At that moment, Madam Vân rose from the floor. But her eyes were rolled back, her limbs moving unnaturally, slowly stepping toward the mirror.
Lăng Tiêu took a deep breath and formed the Thunder Talisman Seal—a low-grade spell, but powerful enough when fueled by human faith energy.
He didn't strike the old woman, but the mirror itself.
BOOM!
Light erupted. The house trembled.
Half the soul remnant dispersed—the rest plunged into Lăng Tiêu's brow.
He staggered.
In that instant, visions flooded him:A broken sword under the Heaven Tribulation, his master's eyes as he sacrificed himself, and Lăng Tiêu screaming into the void:
"If the Dao defies Heaven—then I'll defy the Dao itself!"
When he opened his eyes, his cultivation had broken through a sub-realm, now reaching Mid Qi Condensation Stage—something that would take ten years under Earth's feeble spiritual energy.
Madam Vân collapsed but awoke moments later. Tears streamed down her face:
"I dreamt of my husband... He called me to follow him... But his eyes—there was no love. Only emptiness."
Lăng Tiêu remained quiet.
"It was no dream. Something used your memory... to lure your soul."
He turned and walked out. His shadow stretched long beneath the morning sun.
Villagers watched in silence.
A small child tugged his sleeve:
"Uncle... are you a man or... an immortal?"
Lăng Tiêu ruffled the boy's hair and smiled faintly:
"I'm a man. But... I once was an immortal."