The mirrored plain didn't feel like a battlefield.
It felt like a confession booth.
The air was cold and perfectly still, as if waiting for Lin Qing to speak first. The reflected version of him didn't move—didn't blink—just watched him with an expression that hovered somewhere between fondness and exhaustion.
A strange combination.
Lin Qing broke the silence.
"…Okay. Let's start easy. What exactly are you?"
The reflection tilted its head slightly, as if amused by the question.
"You already know."
"I really don't."
"You will."
Lin Qing rubbed his forehead. "Fantastic. Another cryptic answer."
The reflection stepped forward. Its foot touched the mirror-ground and sent gentle ripples across the world—ripples that carried qi so thick Lin Qing instinctively braced.
Even breathing felt heavier now.
This wasn't some simple illusion.
This thing had weight.
Presence.
A fragment of Dao, not a trick of light.
The reflection lifted its hand. A thin line of mirror qi gathered at its fingertip, forming a blade of translucent light.
"Wait," Lin Qing said. "Are we fighting?"
The reflection gave the smallest nod.
"But why—"
"Because you entered."
That was apparently all the explanation the Marsh intended to give.
The reflection surged forward.
Lin Qing barely reacted in time.
The blade descended—sharp, silent, impossibly fast. Lin Qing twisted aside, the strike passing through where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier. The ground cracked beneath the attack, rippling outward in a perfect circle.
Lin Qing blinked.
It hit the ground, not me. So why is the crack a perfect shape—
Then he realized:
The reflection hadn't attacked randomly.
It had tested his reaction time.
Measured it.
Calculated it.
And now it adjusted.
The next strike didn't come from a blade.
It came from exactly the angle Lin Qing had dodged toward—anticipating him before he moved.
Lin Qing exhaled sharply. "This is unfair."
He ducked under the second strike and stepped back, letting the qi settle enough to gather his breath. But the reflection moved with him—precise, fluid, relentless.
Every step Lin Qing took, it mirrored.
Every hesitation, it filled.
Every pattern he naturally favored, it countered a heartbeat faster.
Not overpowering him.
Just… matching him.
Lin Qing forced his mind to still. The Heavenly Insight Divine Body flared, unfolding diagrams and rhythms around his opponent. Weak points. Reversal flows. Breathing patterns—
Everything clicked.
Then instantly fell apart.
Because the reflection's patterns changed faster than he could read them.
Lin Qing's eye twitched. "You're analyzing me back, aren't you?"
The reflection offered a faint smile and nodded once.
"…Great. I'm fighting a narcissistic AI."
He shifted his stance and pressed forward, using Crimson Shadow Step. The Marsh reacted instantly, deepening the shadows beneath his feet, giving him a burst of speed.
He flickered forward—
The reflection flickered too.
Lin Qing threw a palm strike—
It deflected it by rotating its wrist exactly one degree more than Lin Qing had predicted.
Lin Qing pivoted—
The reflection pivoted the opposite direction, throwing his balance off.
This wasn't just a copy.
This was something that knew his instincts better than he did.
It didn't overpower him.
It out-thought him.
Lin Qing slid backward across the mirrored plane, boots skidding slightly. He breathed out slowly.
"Alright. New plan."
He closed his eyes.
Yin Luo's warning echoed faintly in his memory:
"The Marsh reacts to truth. Not strength."
Truth, huh?
Fine.
He let the Mirror Blood Scripture circulate freely.
He let his thoughts quiet.
He accepted, for once, that he wasn't in control.
The air shifted.
A faint hum vibrated behind him.
A translucent ring of silver light appeared—then split into three overlapping arcs, forming a shape like a lotus made of glass.
An embryonic domain.
It expanded outward in a breath.
The reflection stopped moving immediately.
Its eyes widened—not in fear, but recognition.
"Mirror Domain…" it whispered, the voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Awakened this early…?"
Lin Qing opened his eyes.
The mirrored lotus behind him spun once, warping the light around it.
And for the first time, the reflection seemed hesitant.
Lin Qing stepped forward.
His shadow stretched unnaturally across the ground, splitting into countless branching threads—each thread a reflection of a movement he might take, possibilities blooming like fractal patterns.
The reflection blinked.
It couldn't predict which thread he would actually choose.
Uncertainty.
Finally.
Lin Qing smiled faintly. "My turn."
He stepped forward—
And reality blurred.
One version of him struck from the left.
One struck from the right.
One from behind.
One from above.
Not illusions.
Not clones.
Just possibilities manifested for a heartbeat—long enough to break prediction.
The reflection raised its arms to defend—
And Lin Qing appeared in front of it, palm pressed gently against its chest.
"Thank you for the lesson," he said softly.
The Mirror Domain pulsed.
The reflection shattered—quietly, beautifully—like a mirror touched by morning light.
The fragments dissolved into mist and flowed into him like a returning tide.
Lin Qing didn't feel stronger.
He felt clearer.
A soft voice echoed in the fading air—so faint he wasn't sure if it was sound or memory:
"Walk forward. When the time comes… we will speak properly."
The mirrored world trembled.
Then collapsed—
And Lin Qing was pulled back into the real Reflection Marsh.
He gasped softly as his feet touched solid ground again. Yin Luo, Tian Ke, and Li Chun rushed toward him, concern on all their faces.
"Heir Lin Qing!" Li Chun cried. "You were gone for ages! What happened? Did you see horrors? Secrets? Yourself naked? Anything?!"
Lin Qing adjusted his robe calmly. "Something like that."
Yin Luo watched him closely. "Your qi… changed."
Tian Ke nodded. "It feels sharper. Clearer."
Lin Qing didn't answer immediately.
Because beneath his dantian, pulsing gently, was a seed of power unlike anything he'd felt before.
His Mirror Domain.
Small. Fragile. Unstable.
But real.
The first step down a path no one else in this world had walked.
He took a steady breath.
"We keep moving," he said. "The Marsh isn't done yet."
And somewhere, deep inside the labyrinth of mirrors, something stirred—aware of him now.
Waiting.
Watching.
Almost… welcoming.