Rain hammered against the rust-eaten titanium shelter like shattering glass, each impact wringing a dying groan from the metal.
Lin Yao huddled in the innermost corner of the "Seventh Alley" container slum, his fingertips hovering above a half-meter square holomirror.
The device had long since failed—its edges cracked, its coating peeling, its inner wiring exposed like dried veins. He had traded three tubes of synthetic protein paste at the junk yard for this "scrap."
And yet—three minutes ago—it lit up.
Not the standard Neuroth cold-blue interface glow, but a smear of dark gold, like molten copper seeping through the cracks. His reflection wavered, blurred, showing a young man with wet black hair clinging to his temple. A micro-sensor ring—military grade, black-market, overloaded three times—glinted in his left iris. His right eye, however, remained disturbingly clean, untouched by this world.
He hadn't turned on the lights.
Seventh Alley's night-vision surveillance was everywhere, and "possessing an unregistered mirror-device" was enough for Public Security's Cleaner AIs to dismantle you starting from your third vertebra.
"One more time," he murmured, voice rasping like sandpaper dragged across steel.
His finger touched—
HUM!
The mirror flared hot.
Not the burnt-plastic stench of an overloaded circuit, but a strange mixture of aged sandalwood and post-thunderstorm soil flooding into his nose. Lin Yao's pupils contracted. He had never smelled it before, yet it felt seared into his bones.
His reflection… blinked.
And it wasn't him who blinked.
That "Lin Yao" slowly lifted his head. The background was no longer a leaking container, but a collapsed crimson mountain gate. Only two fractured characters—Guarding Mirror—remained on its half-broken plaque, strangled by overgrown vines. Behind him, a sea of clouds churned, and within it slithered a colossal golden-scaled silhouette—dragon horns like ancient pine roots, tendrils trailing for miles, brushing a mountaintop with a deep thunderous rumble.
A… dragon?
Neuroth textbooks said: "Mythical creatures, collective subconscious projections—no physical evidence."
Yet the dragon's roar seeped from the mirror, drilling into his ears, rattling his skull.
"Shit!" Lin Yao jerked his hand away. The mirror's gold dimmed instantly, leaving only a faint ember glow deep within the cracks.
And at that same moment—
—Aethra Realm, Mirror-Guarding Daoist Temple
Lin Yao—his spiritual form—coughed blood as he pushed himself off the cold bluestone floor.
The ancient mirror had shattered.
Not a normal break, but a spiderweb of blood-red fissures exploding from its core, fragments suspended midair reflecting countless versions of himself—pale, bleeding, pupils flickering with dark-gold arcs.
"Dragon… roar…" he gasped, metallic tang filling his throat.
The roar hadn't been an illusion.
It was the "Cloud-Mane Howler" behind the temple, awakened from its slumber, its bellow collapsing half of the scripture hall. But what had truly shaken his soul were the scenes that flashed within the mirror—
A cramped iron hut stacked from rusted boxes.
Rain drumming on a metal roof.
A man with his own face—ragged clothes, a strange metal ring embedded in his left eye—staring at the mirror with shock.
That smell… machine oil, mold, synthetic protein paste…
Foreign, yet disturbingly real.
"The Twin-Born Pact… it's real?" He trembled, reaching into his robes. Pressed against his chest was a half-burned scroll, ancient characters curling across it:
"The mirror is the navel; its break, your pain.
The body is the furnace; its union, your echo.
Same birth, same star, two worlds—one fate."
His master's dying words.
Words he had once scoffed at.
Outside, the wind abruptly sharpened.
Not natural wind.
A high-frequency vibration tore through the air, making the remaining roof tiles hum. Lin Yao staggered to the window—
Three sleek silver vessels hovered above the clouds.
No windows.
Liquid-metal sheen sliding across their hulls.
Seven nested star-ring insignias burned at their prow.
The Celestial Warden Alliance.
The Patrol Envoys had arrived.
Cold sweat drenched his back.
The monthly "Nightfall Tide" neared—when spiritual veins dried and they harvested "Dawnshine." Tonight… an ancient mirror's resonance, a beast's awakening—signs of "convergence."
They would purge all instabilities.
Including a worthless orphan guarding a broken mirror.
—Neuroth, Seventh Alley
An alarm sliced through the rain.
Not Public Security's routine buzz.
This was Black Obsidian Dynamics' highest-tier EMP global alert.
Blinding red swept across the alley, dyeing the rain blood-bright.
"Warning: High-level energy disturbance detected. Coordinates: Seventh Alley—44B. Initiating 'Silence Protocol.'"
The synthetic voice rang from the surveillance hubs.
Lin Yao's heart froze.
He lunged for the floorboard, prying up a loose panel—his entire life hidden beneath it: a modified electromagnetic pistol (30m range, overheats on the third shot), three spare neuro-cell batteries, and a thumb-sized black cube: a phase jammer that could hide him from surveillance for seventeen seconds—at the cost of mind-splitting agony.
He jammed the cube into the port behind his ear—
BOOM!!!
The entire container roof ripped away.
Rain, metal, and torn cables crashed around him. Lin Yao rolled into a corner, dazed, and looked up through the storm of debris—
A silver warship hovered ten meters overhead.
Its underside split open. A figure stepped out—silver armor, face blank, helmet smooth as a mirror, reflecting the wrecked alley and Lin Yao's curled body.
Its right arm was not mechanical, but a length of dark-gold bone whip. At its tip floated a pulsing golden droplet—
Dawnshine.
Lin Yao's neural implant shrieked warnings:
[Target Identified: Patrol Envoy · Gui]
[Threat Level: Ω]
[Recommendation: Escape Immediately. Survival Probability: <0.3%]
Gui raised its arm.
The bone whip swayed.
The droplet drifted—not toward Lin Yao—but toward the fractured holomirror beside him.
The mirror glowed again—dark gold.
—Aethra Realm, Mirror-Guarding Temple
Gui's spiritual form pointed the bone whip at Lin Yao, the droplet hovering three inches from his brow.
"Mirror-bearer," the metallic-jade voice intoned, neither male nor female.
"The Mirror has rung. You… shall fall silent."
Lin Yao stumbled back, spine hitting the shattered mirror frame.
Behind him yawned the Mirror Abyss—space rippling like the surface of water, revealing a gray, chaotic void: the graveyard of the twin-born who failed.
The whip tightened.
The droplet elongated into a golden needle—lancing for his brow!
—Neuroth, Seventh Alley
The droplet shot into the mirror!
His neural implant erupted:
[High-dimensional energy detected!]
[Warning: Mirror structure unstable!]
[Countdown: 3…]
He didn't think.
Survival overrode all.
He threw himself at the burning mirror, pressing both hands against it—
HUMMMMM—!!!
The world tore.
Not pain.
Dislocation.
Left eye—Neuroth: freezing rain, silver warship, bone whip shrieking.
Right eye—Aethra: sandalwood, dragon-roar, golden needle burning into his pupil.
Two visions overlapped, collided, fused.
He "saw" the silver helmet reflect the crimson temple.
He "heard" dragon roar and EMP alarms merge into one dreadful hum.
He "felt" cold titanium under his left hand, warm blood-slick stone under his right.
0.5 seconds.
As Gui's strike descended—
Lin Yao sidestepped half a step left.
Not instinct.
Muscle memory—borrowed, synchronized instantly through the mirror.
The bone whip grazed his ear, punching through the container wall—sssshhht!
The metal melted like paper, a golden rim glowing at the hole's edge.
Gui froze.
Recalculating.
Lin Yao gasped, rain mixing with sweat.
He looked down at his hands—
Left: scorched fingertips, embedded with Neuroth grime.
Right: torn skin, Aethra blood trickling.
The mirror went completely dark.
Except for one ember of dark gold deep within the cracks—
stubborn, flickering,
like a star refusing to die.
Hey, Traveler.
Thanks for stepping through the rain into Seventh Alley's rust and sandalwood.This isn't a "chosen one saves the world" story.It's about a shattered planet trying to stitch its heartbeat back together.Tech and Lingqi aren't enemies—they're the bones and blood of the same body.When the world says "Stay divided," you reach out and touch your other self in the mirror.Over the next 999 chapters, sweat, blood, trust, and danger will shape this fractured world.If you've ever seen another self in the mirror… welcome home, Mirrorkeeper.
— KHChing