Before activating the mirror, Lin Mo sat on his apartment floor.
Spirit stones were arranged around him in a loose ring. Not precise. Not ritual-perfect. Enough to mark intent.
He wasn't cultivating. Earth didn't allow that.
Still, he sat.
Focus mattered.
"These rules," he murmured.
One body.
One life.
One return.
He gathered the stones, slipped them into his pocket, then stood and pressed his thumb—still raw from earlier—against the mirror's edge.
The world broke.
—
He arrived standing.
That alone was wrong.
A half-second later, his knees buckled as foreign qi surged through his meridians like floodwater through rotten gates. He bit down hard, jaw locking to keep the sound in.
Noise hit him next.
Shouting. Screaming. Laughter layered over itself until it became a single pressure against the ears. Sweat. Blood. Burning incense thick enough to sting.
Lin Mo lifted his head.
Stone walls rose on all sides, carved with formation lines that pulsed faintly. Tiered stands loomed above, packed tight with bodies.
An arena.
On the blood-darkened platform across from him stood another man.
Bare-chested. Scarred. Relaxed.
Smiling.
Memories slammed in.
Qiu Yan.
Slave fighter.
Qi Refining, sixth layer.
Wins: twelve. Losses: nine.
A death arena.
Illegal. Profitable. Efficient.
Good.
[Descent Successful]
Identity Synchronization: 52%
Note: Host Body Enrolled in Active Combat
The man cracked his neck.
"New one?" he said, amused. "You better scream well. Makes it funnier."
Lin Mo looked down.
Old wounds layered over older ones. Burns. Cracked ribs that hadn't healed right. This body had been used hard and thrown back in anyway.
It wouldn't last.
That was fine.
The gong sounded.
Qiu Yan came at him immediately, qi flooding into his fists.
Lin Mo didn't dodge.
The punch crushed into his ribs. Something snapped. Pain flared hot and bright.
The crowd roared.
Lin Mo staggered back, blood on his lips.
And smiled.
So this was the difference.
No restraint. No aftermath. Only spectacle.
He fought back.
Poorly.
On purpose.
His movements were clumsy, mistimed. He let Qiu Yan dominate the exchange, absorbing blow after blow while watching closely. How sixth-layer qi condensed at the joints. How it surged just before impact.
Five breaths.
No. Ten.
Enough.
Lin Mo changed pace.
He rushed in, wrapped an arm around Qiu Yan's neck, and drove his knee up. Once. Twice.
Qiu Yan howled and smashed elbows into Lin Mo's spine.
Lin Mo released him and ran.
The crowd exploded with laughter and boos.
Running meant weakness.
Running meant death.
Exactly.
Qiu Yan chased, furious, qi compressing into something lethal.
Lin Mo reached the arena barrier.
He turned.
And stepped forward instead of back.
The punch went through his chest.
Heart. Lungs. Gone.
The force lifted him off the platform.
As his vision collapsed inward, Lin Mo focused on three things:
The rhythm of sixth-layer qi.
The way the arena formations suppressed escape.
The glow of the betting talisman above the stands.
Then darkness closed.
—
Earth.
Lin Mo screamed.
This death hit harder. Cleaner. Like being struck head-on by a wall.
His soul shook violently. Blood poured from his nose and ears as he slid down his apartment wall and collapsed.
He stayed there, gasping, until the shaking slowed.
[Return Complete]
Death Classification: High-Force Physical
Soul Integrity: 84%
Options surfaced.
[Selectable Returns]
▸ Spirit Stones (Arena Winnings: Moderate)
▸ Qi Compression Method (Qi Refining → Foundation Transition, Fragmented)
▸ Arena Formation Insight: Suppression-Type (Low Grade)
Lin Mo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
He laughed quietly.
So this was how it worked.
Not meditation.
Not insight.
Violence, refined into understanding.
"The method," he said.
Pain crashed into him as knowledge carved itself into place. He folded forward, teeth clenched as unfamiliar structures settled behind his ribs.
When it ended, he stayed on the floor for a long time.
Then he stood.
"Foundation Establishment," he said softly, "is just pressure."
He looked at the mirror.
"At this rate," he continued, voice calm, "dying is faster than living."
The mirror reflected him without response.
Lin Mo activated it again.
Somewhere else—
another platform,
another crowd,
—and another disposable life opened its eyes.