The sect's outer court was quiet in the early morning, but not for long. The disciples gathered one by one, forming a crooked line in front of the small stone platform. They were all boys and girls around fourteen to sixteen, dressed in simple gray robes, nervous but excited.
Today was the day of Qi Condensation Awakening, when each disciple would ignite their Soul Lamp and take their first step on the cultivation path.
At the very end of the line stood a thin boy with black hair tied loosely with a cord. His name was Shen Kai. He lowered his head to avoid the glances of the other disciples, but he could hear them whispering anyway.
"Don't expect much from him," one boy snorted. "Everyone knows his meridians are weak."
"Maybe his Soul Lamp won't even light," a girl whispered, stifling a laugh.
Kai clenched his fists but said nothing. He'd heard the same things for years. Weak body, poor talent, barely admitted into the sect as a servant disciple. If not for Elder Wu taking pity on him, he wouldn't even stand here today.
Still, his chest burned with determination. No matter what they say, today I'll awaken. I'll prove I can cultivate too.
Then a supervising elder, a thin old man with sharp eyes, raised his hand. "Quiet. Begin."
One by one, the disciples stepped onto the stone platform, sat cross-legged, and followed the breathing method Elder Wu had drilled into them. Their Qi circulated, drew toward the dantian, and then—ignition.
A faint flame appeared within each disciple's body, visible to the elder's spiritual sense. The flame was the Soul Lamp, the proof of one's Dao foundation.
"Bright," the elder muttered for one girl, nodding in approval. "Average," he said for another boy, shaking his head.
When a boy produced a strong golden flame, the crowd of disciples gasped. "A rare talent," the elder declared, his tone warm for the first time. The boy puffed out his chest, grinning.
Then it was Kai's turn.
So he climbed the platform, sat cross-legged, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and began to circulate Qi exactly as he had practiced. His dantian stirred like a still pond disturbed by a stone.
At first, nothing happened.
The elder frowned. The disciples snickered.
"Of course. Weak meridians.""Maybe he won't even form a Soul Lamp."
Kai's teeth sank into his lip. No. I won't fail. Not here.
He focused harder, pushing his meager Qi toward his dantian until his chest felt like it was on fire. Pain lanced through him. His veins throbbed. His stomach twisted.
Then, all at once—something cracked inside him.
Not a Soul Lamp.
A Mirror.
Within his dantian, instead of a simple flame, a great round mirror floated in the void. Its surface was black, shattered with cracks spiderwebbing across it. The cracks pulsed faintly with red light, as if blood had seeped into them.
Kai's eyes flew open. His body trembled. He could feel it clearly—this was not normal.
The elder frowned deeper. To his senses, Kai's Soul Lamp appeared faint, almost invisible, as though barely lit. He shook his head. "Poor. Next."
The disciples laughed openly now. "He barely lit it at all!""As expected—trash."
Kai didn't hear them. He was staring at the Mirror in his dantian.
Because within the Mirror… he saw himself die.
The Mirror's cracked surface shimmered. An image appeared.
A man with the same black eyes as Kai, older, stood with a long sword in his hand. His robes were soaked in blood. Behind him, a burning mountain crumbled. Before him, his sworn brother smiled with a dagger buried in his chest.
"You…" the man whispered, his voice hoarse with betrayal.
The dagger twisted. Blood poured. The man collapsed. The world went dark.
Kai gasped, his heart pounding. He stumbled on the platform, clutching his chest as if the dagger had pierced him too.
"What's wrong with him?""He's shaking like a fool."
The disciples' mocking laughter buzzed in his ears.
But Kai's mind was filled only with the sword stance he had seen—the way the older him had lifted the blade, the flow of Qi, the killing intent.
He felt it. As if he had practiced it for years.
Kai staggered back to his place. The elder waved dismissively. "His flame is poor. He will never amount to much."
The disciples snickered again, but Kai ignored them. His hands still trembled, not from fear, but from the memory etched into his bones.
That night, when the others slept, he sat cross-legged in the corner of the dormitory and closed his eyes again.
The Mirror was there. Always there. Its cracks glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
He reached toward it in his mind. Another fragment flickered.
A man in golden robes, sitting on a throne. Poisoned wine at his lips. Rage in his eyes as he fell dead.
A beggar in rags, shivering in the snow, starving as people walked past.
A thousand voices, crying out in death.
Kai pulled back, gasping for air. His body was drenched in sweat.
What is this thing? Why do I see so many deaths? Are they… mine?
The Mirror pulsed again. A whisper echoed in his mind:
"Ten thousand lives… unfinished"
Kai gritted his teeth. "If you show me death, then show me strength too."
He stood up quietly, gripping a practice sword from the rack. He closed his eyes and let the memory of the sword saint flow through him. His body moved on its own.
The blade cut through the night air in a perfect arc. Clean. Sharp. Powerful.
He stared at his own hands in disbelief. He had never been taught swordsmanship. But his stance… his movement… it was flawless.
The Mirror pulsed again. His dantian stirred. His Qi, though weak, flowed smoother than ever before. Denser. Purer.
Kai's lips curled into a small smile.
"They all think I'm trash," he whispered. "Let them. I'll use this secret. I'll use you."
The Mirror pulsed, as if in response.
But when he tried to sleep again, the Mirror didn't rest.
Dreams of betrayal stabbed into him. Dreams of poison burned his throat. Dreams of starvation gnawed his belly.
He woke up choking, clutching his chest, drenched in sweat.
The obsessions of those lives clung to him—hatred, paranoia, despair. His heart felt heavy, filled with emotions that weren't entirely his own.
But beneath the weight, a spark of determination burned brighter.
If this is the price of strength, I'll bear it. Even if I carry the hatred of ten thousand lives… I'll still climb higher.