Subtitle: When the heartbeat becomes the only truth, fate begins to breathe.
Chapter Epigraph:
"Blood is the vessel of memory. Only those who remember pain can truly rewrite destiny."
— General's Heart Sutra · Blood Seal Chapter
The deafening roar of the Mirror Palace's shattering still echoed, its countless fragments now a torrent of light that tore the four apart.
In the chaotic vortex, Chu Hongying's commander's instincts overrode her fleeting panic. But as an aura, so familiar it twisted her heart, wrapped around her, a near-desperate dread seized her—they were pulling her back. Back to the place she had spent ten years trying, and failing, to truly escape.
The moment her feet touched solid ground, a scent carved into her bones—iron, smoke, frozen earth, and blood, seeped so deep into the soil it could never be cleansed—stole her breath.
Her gaze lifted, landing on a tattered military banner, half-buried in the icy mud. Her stomach clenched. This was the end of her over-a-decade-long military life, the origin of all her guilt and nightmares—
Broken Blade Valley.
And high above, the lingering cold light of the Mirror Palace hung like a vast, indifferent, divine pupil, gazing down upon this earthly hell.
Reason above, blood below. Her trial began here.
Silence prevailed, broken only by the wind's mournful cry.
Through the swirling mist, familiar faces materialized, silently encircling her. They were not grotesque demons, but her former comrades-in-arms. This very stillness was more crushing than any accusation.
The old cook, back bent, his face still smudged with soot, wordlessly offered a worn-out waterskin. For a heartbeat, Chu Hongying almost felt the phantom burn of cheap liquor down her throat, saw his warm, sly smile as he'd sneak her the water. Now, the waterskin was empty, that warmth long gone.
The young scout's eyes remained clear, bright with undimmed admiration. He repeated his final, dying act: straining to hand her the blood-stained intelligence scroll. "General…" His ghostly whisper seemed to brush her ear. She remembered him falling, hand still locked on the bamboo, pointing toward the enemy's position.
Her silent vice-general, body bristling with phantom arrows, stood firm as a mountain, blocking her most exposed flank. His last look held no blame, only a desperate "Go!" That very look had, in countless sleepless nights, become the sharpest blade, flaying her soul.
No shouts. No questions.
Yet every silent gaze was a needle, piercing the fragile seams of her memory. She forced herself to meet each pair of eyes, the blood oath mark on her chest burning as if branding her. Each breath was a struggle, as if she inhaled not air, but the blood-flecked dust of that day.
"If I had listened to the flanking proposal…"
"If I had seen through the decoy just a moment sooner…"
"If… if I hadn't given the order to stand their ground…"
Thoughts barbed with self-recrimination wrapped around her heart, tightening until she nearly buckled under the weight.
The wind and snow died abruptly.
A figure of pure white light stepped from the mist—another her.
Armor immaculate, reflecting the cold Mirror Palace light above. Eyes serene, form untainted by a single speck of dust or drop of blood.
The Perfect General.
She gestured, and the wraiths vanished like smoke. Broken Blade Valley reshaped itself into a flawless victory simulation: the enemy routed, not a single imperial life lost, banners flying under a clear sky. Even the air turned clean, scrubbed of all blood and pain.
The mirror spoke, its voice melodious yet utterly flat, a perfect mimicry of Shen Yuzhu's most analytical tone, yet weaving the cruelest temptations:
"Accept me, and the old cook lives to see his granddaughter. She'd be ten now, always wearing the red ribbons he bought her."
"Accept me, and that boy becomes a celebrated hero, famed across the land, not a memory you mourn with candied fruits at a forgotten grave."
"Accept me, and you shed the 'Last Lu' identity. The imperial annals will sing only of 'General Chu's' glory. No one will whisper 'rebel's orphan' behind your back."
Each word was a key, crafted to fit the most hidden, tender locks of her heart. The vision of pristine victory was a dream so beautiful it was a physical ache. Her hand rose, trembling, fingertips yearning for that touch. She knew it was a lie—a beautiful, devastating lie.
Just before contact—
She saw it.
The young scout's eyes, holding not blind worship of an ideal, but pure, unwavering trust in her—Chu Hongying.
A memory detonated within her: the simple, fervent oath she'd sworn to these men when she first took command:
"I cannot promise to bring you all home. But I swear, I will remember every sacrifice. Your blood will not be shed in vain!"
Remember… If I accept this 'perfection,' what is left to remember? I would forfeit the very right to remember!
A torrent of shame and fury incinerated all hesitation.
"My soldiers may fall! But they will never be erased!"
Her voice was cold forged steel, the Hunter's Wind Pike humming in her grip.
"Your lives are my battle honors—every single one counts!"
The spear lunged, a dragon forged of all her pain and resolve, driving straight into the heart of the perfect reflection!
Crack—!
The mirror image shattered, dissolving into a billion icy data streams. And thus, perfection cracked, giving way to empathy. The entire flawless victory simulation collapsed, and Broken Blade Valley returned to its raw, honest desolation.
Chu Hongying stood firm, steam rising from her, each word a hammer strike:
"A general's honor lies not in spotless victory, but in bearing the burden, and marching on with the dead."
As the mirror fell, a searing, tearing agony erupted down her right arm!
Beneath her sleeve, a molten crimson pattern surged from her shoulder, coiling like a living thing before solidifying into an ancient, intricate seal at her wrist—the Blood Lock had awakened.
A tsunami of images and sounds—not just pain, but their most potent final thoughts:
"Mother, your son did his duty!"
"General, go!"
"Next life… I'll still follow you…"
This power flowed from her blood, but more so from the loyalty, trust, and ultimate sacrifice of the northern army. She felt a connection, deep and thrumming, to the land beneath her feet and its ancient veins.
She whispered, the words laced with painful acceptance:
"To move forward, I must carry them all."
Far away, in the Mirror Sea, Shen Yuzhu's heart clenched.
The strategic board in his mind, where he dueled his own rational demons, was sundered by a crimson meteor. Yet, instead of shattering, it found a new, more resilient balance, tempered in the fire of that raw will.
He understood, his whisper laced with awe:
"Her 'imperfection'… is the crucial 'living piece' this world required."
Deep within the palace Mirror Hall, upon the Water Mirror Platform.
The new emperor watched, motionless, as Chu Hongying shattered perfection and embraced the Blood Lock.
As the searing lock fully formed, the faint unease in his profound eyes solidified. His fingers tightened unconsciously, crushing a luminous pearl on his throne armrest to dust.
"Emotion as the bond, memory as the authority…" His murmur echoed in the vast emptiness. "She is forging… a 'consensus' outside my design."
He raised a hand, a cold command flowing into the mirror array.
The trial would accelerate.
In Broken Blade Valley, the wind and snow finally stilled.
The surrounding spirits began to dissolve into motes of light.
Before vanishing completely, as one, they raised their right fists and struck their chests—
A unified, transcendent battle cry shook the valley once more:
"Wind!—"
The Blood Lock on Chu Hongying's arm burned like a brand. She returned the gesture, her voice rough but unyielding:
"…The North Wind never yields."
The light dust settled back into the earth, as if returning their collective weight and strength to the land.
Before her, a portal of crimson light and leaping heartfire roared into existence.
The Blood Lock's pulse thrummed in harmony with the deep bronze veins below—as if the world itself was preparing for a rebirth.
Beyond the gate, chaotic energies clashed. She sensed two warring wills—
Shen Yuzhu's strained reason: "Helian, stand down!"
Helian Sha's grief-racked fury: "This false order ends now!"
Just before she stepped across, a familiar warmth quivered in her heart—Shen Yuzhu's essence, crossing the boundaries of mirror and blood, briefly syncing with her heartbeat.
She heard his near-phantom whisper:
"Whether mirrors shatter or blood burns—I will be at the end, waiting for you."
Chu Hongying took a sharp breath, the Hunter's Wind Pike solid in her grasp, the Blood Lock ablaze on her arm.
She did not look back, striding with iron resolve into the portal to the "Oath of the Heart Lock."
"If fate binds the heart, then my blood shall be the key."
The light consumed her.
The next trial awaited.
High above, the cold "Eye of Reason" slowly closed.
A single dewdrop, condensed from pure mirror light, fell silently onto the parched, blood-soaked earth of Broken Blade Valley.
It was absorbed, vanished, in an instant, leaving no trace.
And in the depths of the distant Mirror Hall, a new, deeper crack crept across the edge of the great Water Mirror.
The mirror of reason was bleeding.
When reason bleeds, the world must learn to feel.