The day after the "mountain-splitting incident," the Blood Moon Sect still buzzed like a kicked beehive.
Outer disciples reenacted his palm strike with broomsticks. Inner disciples argued over whether his qi had burned red or silver. The Sect kitchens were working double shifts feeding the pilgrims who had climbed up the mountain just to "feel the Heir's aura."
Lin Qing tried not to think about any of it.
He sat in his room, robe half-tied, staring at the brazier. The Mirror Blood Scripture still pulsed faintly in his veins, drawing traces of qi even when he sat still. Every breath made the air vibrate.
"I really need an off switch," he muttered.
Li Chun burst in, carrying a tray of tea that sloshed dangerously. "Heir Lin Qing! Elder Hei says the Sect Masters of the inner peaks have requested a demonstration of your divine arts!"
"No," Lin Qing said instantly.
Li Chun froze. "B-but—"
"No demonstrations, no speeches, no divine arts. Tell them the Heir is meditating on enlightenment."
He took a sip from the cup. "Preferably enlightenment through silence."
Li Chun hesitated. "Should I tell them you're… transcending the mortal realm?"
"Tell them I'm transcending visitors."
By the time the disciple left, quiet settled again. Lin Qing finally relaxed—until a faint vibration crawled up his spine.
It wasn't qi from outside. It came from below.
The floorboards under the brazier glowed for a heartbeat, silver lines forming a shape he'd seen before: the sigil of the Mirror Blood Scripture. The same pattern hidden in the Sect's foundation.
He knelt, brushing the symbol. The light flared.
A small hole opened in the stone floor, revealing a staircase of black glass descending into darkness.
"…of course there's a secret basement."
He hesitated for a second, then sighed. "At least it's not another ceremony."
The air below was cold and still. The deeper he went, the more it felt like walking inside a reflection—sound dulled, his own footsteps echoing half a second late.
At the bottom waited a single door carved with a crescent moon and an inscription worn by time.
"Only the Reflection may enter."
When he touched it, the door melted away like liquid glass.
Inside stretched a narrow chamber lit by floating shards of crystal. Each shard showed a fragment of history—scenes flickering like pieces of a broken memory.
Armies clashing beneath a red sky.
A man in silver robes standing before seven radiant figures.
Lightning falling from heaven.
The Mirror Emperor.
Lin Qing stopped breathing for a moment. He could feel it—the same energy woven into his scripture, but older, heavier, infinite.
At the chamber's end stood a massive bronze mirror covered in dust. A single line of text shimmered faintly across its surface:
"For the one who sees truth, not glory."
The instant he read it, the crystals shattered. Light rushed toward the mirror, flooding the chamber in blinding silver.
He blinked. The reflection in the mirror wasn't his own anymore.
A man looked back—tall, robed in silver and red, eyes like twin moons. The Mirror Emperor's image, preserved through intent alone.
"...Great," Lin Qing muttered. "Another hallucination."
The reflection smiled faintly. "Not quite."
The voice was deep but strangely gentle, echoing inside Lin Qing's skull.
"You carry my scripture. My bloodline hums within you. But your soul… no. You are not me."
"I noticed," Lin Qing said. "I don't recall starting any wars."
The reflection's smile widened. "Good. Keep it that way. I burned the heavens once. You need not burn them again—at least not yet."
Lin Qing crossed his arms. "So this is your secret basement? What, you left a tutorial behind?"
The mirror pulsed. "A fragment of intent. Nothing more. I could not break the blockade, so I left behind the means for one who could."
"Blockade?"
The image blurred, lightning crawling through the mirror's surface. For an instant Lin Qing saw seven immense silhouettes standing above the clouds, halos of gold behind their heads.
"The Immortal Clans sealed the path. They feared what came after Emperor. They called it balance. I called it cowardice."
The chamber trembled. The mirror's glow dimmed.
"Wait," Lin Qing said, stepping forward. "What does any of this have to do with—"
The reflection cut him off. "Not yet. You are still bound by the Spirit Sea. Understanding too much will crush your core."
"Good talk," Lin Qing muttered.
A shard of light separated from the mirror and floated toward him. It settled against his chest, dissolving into warmth.
You have absorbed the Mirror Emperor's Dao Fragment.
Power surged through his body. His qi spiraled once, compressing, refining itself until the entire chamber shook.
The Spirit Sea inside him deepened—vast, clear, endless.
Spirit Sea Realm – Mid Stage achieved.
When the glow faded, the mirror was blank.
Only Lin Qing's reflection remained, eyes faintly silver.
He exhaled slowly. "You could've at least explained the stairs."
He turned to leave—but as he reached the doorway, a new script etched itself across the glass.
"Truth begins when reflection moves."
He paused. The words pulsed once, then vanished.
---
Back in his room, Li Chun nearly fainted when the floor opened behind Lin Qing.
"Heir Lin Qing! Where—what—there was lightning!"
Lin Qing waved a hand. "Basement tour."
Elder Hei appeared seconds later, mask gleaming faintly. "The Sect's formations trembled again. The divine platform reacted. Did something occur?"
"Nothing serious," Lin Qing said, sitting back down. "Found a mirror. It glared at me. Now my qi feels heavier."
Elder Hei's breath hitched. "A mirror… beneath the mountain? That chamber was sealed since the Emperor's fall."
"Looks open now."
The elder lowered his head in deep reverence. "Then the Heir has accepted the Emperor's legacy."
Lin Qing sighed. "Let's not start another festival."
Li Chun blinked rapidly. "Should I cancel the banners?"
"Please do."
---
Later that night, Lin Qing sat cross-legged again, eyes closed. The new fragment of power still swirled inside him, reshaping his qi patterns. For the first time, the Mirror Blood Scripture felt… alive. It pulsed with a rhythm that matched his own heartbeat.
He opened his eyes.
The brazier's flame stretched toward him, perfectly mirrored in his pupils. The air hummed quietly, waiting.
He whispered, "You said reflection begins when it moves. Fine."
He raised his hand.
The flame bent into two, twin fires spiraling in opposite directions—each a perfect reflection of the other.
And somewhere deep in the mountain, the old bronze mirror flickered once more.