It was late at night when Lin Chen was roused.
He had just completed his first circulation of spiritual energy since his breakthrough and was still immersed in the unprecedented sense of power. Though the spiritual energy in his dantian remained weak, compared to before, it was like a dried riverbed finally receiving flowing water—not much, but moving.
When the knock came at his door, he instinctively withdrew every trace of his spiritual energy.
"Who is it?"
"Me." A low, unfamiliar voice came from outside, edged with caution. "The clan leader wants to see you. Come with me."
Lin Chen's heart skipped a beat.
The clan leader.
Lin Canghai.
Summoning a collateral waste in secret at this hour—this was anything but ordinary.
"Don't panic." Jing Lao's voice sounded in his mind, calm as ice. "Remember, to everyone else, you're still a waste at the first layer of Qi Condensation. Your spiritual energy fluctuation is almost indistinguishable from a miscellaneous spirit root. The seal is still in place. No one can see through you. Stay calm and respond as the situation demands."
Lin Chen took a deep breath, rose, and opened the door.
A black-clad guard stood outside, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, revealing only a pair of sharp, restrained eyes. He glanced at Lin Chen, his gaze lingering less than a second before moving away—a miscellaneous spirit root waste wasn't worth a second look.
"Follow me. Don't make a sound. Don't look around."
The guard turned and disappeared into the darkness. Lin Chen followed.
The Lin family compound at night was entirely different from its daytime self.
By day, the Lin residence was solemn and majestic—gray bricks, black tiles, upturned eaves, layered brackets—every detail speaking to a century-old legacy. But at night, those elegant structures cast heavy shadows under the moonlight, and footsteps echoed through the corridors like a hollow maze.
The guard led Lin Chen through several winding passageways, avoiding the night patrols, until they reached an unremarkable small door. He pushed it open and stepped aside for Lin Chen to enter.
"Go in. The clan leader is waiting for you."
Lin Chen crossed the threshold into a modest study.
A single oil lamp burned in the room, its dim yellow light casting flickering shadows on the walls. Lin Canghai sat behind a desk, a scroll of bamboo slips in his hands, seemingly absorbed in reading. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up, his gaze settling on Lin Chen.
Those eyes were old.
Not old in years—Lin Canghai was barely over fifty, still in his prime by cultivator standards. Old in the sense of weariness and sharpness that came from seeing too much, weathering too many storms.
"Sit." Lin Canghai gestured to the chair across from his desk.
Lin Chen sat as instructed, back straight, hands resting on his knees. His posture was respectful but not servile, his eyes meeting Lin Canghai's without flinching.
Lin Canghai studied him for a moment, then said, "You look very much like your father."
Lin Chen's fingers tightened slightly.
"Especially the eyes," Lin Canghai continued, a rare gentleness in his voice. "When your father was young, he had those same eyes—calm on the surface, but with something hidden beneath. Hidden deep. Most people couldn't see it."
Lin Chen said nothing.
He didn't know why the clan leader was suddenly bringing up his father, nor how to respond. In the past eight years, no one in this family had ever spoken to him about his father.
"Do you know why I called you here?" Lin Canghai set down the bamboo scroll and leaned back in his chair.
"No," Lin Chen said.
Lin Canghai was silent for a moment, then picked up a jade slip from his desk and placed it before Lin Chen.
"The Cangyun Sect arrived today. Two weeks earlier than usual. Three inspectors, over a dozen disciples." His voice was calm, but each word carried the weight of a lead weight. "They've come to the Lin family looking for something."
Lin Chen's heartbeat quickened, but his expression remained unchanged.
"What?"
"A bronze mirror."
The air in the study seemed to freeze.
Lin Chen felt the bronze mirror in his robe grow warm, as if something inside it stirred. He suppressed the anomaly with sheer will, maintaining a look of puzzlement.
"A bronze mirror?" he repeated, the confusion in his voice perfectly pitched.
"Eight years ago, your father obtained an ancient divine artifact in the Northern Wasteland Secret Realm." Lin Canghai's gaze was fixed on Lin Chen's face, missing no subtle change in expression. "The Cangyun Sect claims this artifact is powerful enough to reshape the cultivation world of Tiannan. And among the belongings your father sent back to the Lin family was a bronze mirror."
Lin Chen's brows drew together slightly, as if trying to remember.
"My father's things…" he murmured. "There were some. Clothes, a few books, a broken sword… and a mirror."
Lin Canghai's eyes brightened.
"Where is that mirror?"
"In my room," Lin Chen said. "It's clouded over, doesn't reflect anything. I thought it was just an ordinary bronze mirror. I keep it by my bed as a decoration."
Lin Canghai's fingers tapped twice on the desk, as if weighing something.
"That mirror—the Cangyun Sect will search for it tomorrow," he said. "If they find it, do you know what will happen?"
Lin Chen shook his head.
"If that mirror is truly what the Cangyun Sect is after," Lin Canghai's voice dropped low, "they won't leave anyone who might know about it untouched. You. Me. The entire Lin family. All of us will be implicated."
Lin Chen's heart sank.
He finally understood why Lin Canghai had summoned him secretly in the dead of night—not to protect him, but to protect the Lin family. The clan leader was assessing the risk, deciding whether to hand him over.
"What do you want me to do, Clan Leader?" Lin Chen asked, his voice remarkably calm.
Lin Canghai looked at him, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
This sixteen-year-old, faced with this situation—no panic, no pleading, not even a "why me." Just a calm question: What do you want me to do?
So like his father.
"Is that mirror still in your room?" Lin Canghai asked.
"Yes."
"The Cangyun Sect will search room by room tomorrow." Lin Canghai rose and walked to the window, turning his back to Lin Chen. "If you give the mirror to me, I can find a way to hide it, or…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
But Lin Chen understood.
Or hand him over.
Give both the mirror and the boy to the Cangyun Sect, in exchange for the Lin family's safety.
Lin Chen was silent for a long time.
He thought of Jing Lao's words—"The Xuan Tian Fragment is an ancient divine artifact. Broken as it is, its value is immeasurable."
He thought of his father's letter—"Keep this mirror safe. It will protect you."
He thought of the past six months—Jing Lao teaching him to cultivate, helping him reshape his meridians, giving him hope in his darkest moments.
"Clan Leader," Lin Chen spoke, his voice soft but steady.
"Yes?"
"That mirror is the only thing my father left me." He said. "Can I… keep it?"
Lin Canghai turned and looked at the young man.
His eyes were dark, deep, like two bottomless wells. But deep within, something was burning—not a flame, but something more enduring, more resilient than flame.
Obsession.
Something that, after sixteen years of being crushed, mocked, trampled, had still not been extinguished.
Lin Canghai felt a strange sense of dislocation.
He remembered Lin Yuanshan.
That young man from the collateral line had those same eyes. Everyone said he wasn't worthy, said he had no talent, said he could never succeed. But with nothing but stubborn refusal to yield, he had pushed through to Foundation Establishment, becoming the first from the collateral line in a century to achieve such a feat.
Then he died.
Died in the Northern Wasteland Secret Realm, died without explanation, without even his bones returning.
Lin Canghai closed his eyes and let out a long, weary sigh.
"Go back," he said, his voice suddenly very tired. "Hide the mirror. Don't let anyone find it."
Lin Chen rose and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Clan Leader."
He turned toward the door. His hand had just touched the handle when Lin Canghai's voice came from behind.
"Lin Chen."
"Yes."
"If something happens tomorrow…" Lin Canghai hesitated. "Don't blame the Lin family. Sometimes, people can't choose what they face, but they can choose how to face it."
Lin Chen didn't look back.
"I know," he said, and walked out.
In the study, only Lin Canghai remained.
He stood at the window, gazing into the night, for a very long time.
Then he took a communication jade slip from his sleeve. He hesitated for a long moment before finally crushing it.
The moment the jade slip shattered, a faint, almost imperceptible thread of spiritual light flew out the window and disappeared into the night sky.