There were no weapons here.
No swords, no pills, no talismans.
Only walls of smooth obsidian, a sky that pulsed like the inside of a heartbeat, and a floor of liquid memory that rippled beneath every step.
This was the Mirror Sanctum — an ancient battlefield outlawed by most sects. Here, battles were not fought with force…
But with truth.
And today, at Yan Yiren's request, the Empress opened its gates for the first time in centuries.
The Rules Were Simple:
Only those with a bond to Hei Long could enter.
Only truths once shared could be summoned.
And only one could walk out without having their connection broken.
Qingxue arrived first.
Swordless, but radiating iron discipline.
Zhao Yuran came second — pale, tight-lipped, the scent of burnt alchemy clinging to her robes.
Mu Yexin appeared last — veiled in a shifting illusion, her face flickering between grief and laughter.
Yan Yiren stood at the center.
Eyes burning softly. Hands open.
