The world around Lin Qing melted the moment he stepped through the light. Shapes blurred, colors warped, and a cold wind swept across his skin as if someone had peeled away the surface of reality itself.
When everything settled, he stood on an endless plain made of pale stone. There were no mountains, no buildings—just a flat world stretching in every direction beneath a sky of harsh, blinding gold. The air felt strangely muted, like sound itself was holding its breath.
"…Where am I?" Lin Qing murmured.
A voice answered, quiet but resonant.
"At the end."
He turned.
A man stood with his back to him—tall, straight-backed, silver-robed, hair drifting in the golden wind. Even from behind, his presence was overwhelming. The world seemed to bend slightly around him, as if it recognized the weight of who he had been.
The Mirror Emperor.
Lin Qing approached cautiously. "This is… your final moment?"
"A memory of it," the Emperor replied. He finally turned, and Lin Qing felt his breath catch.
He was looking at his own face.
Not quite the same—older, sharper, carrying a calm strength that only came from a lifetime of imposing one's will on the world. If Lin Qing still carried hints of humanity and uncertainty, this version was what came after all of that had been burned away.
"You have my eyes," the Emperor said softly. "The part of me that refused to kneel."
Lin Qing swallowed. "What happened here?"
The sky cracked before the Emperor could answer. Golden light split apart, shards falling like burning glass. Through the fractures, seven enormous silhouettes descended—each one wrapped in overwhelming, radiant pressure.
Lin Qing staggered under the weight of their presence.
"The Immortal Clans…" he whispered.
"Not the true ones," the Emperor corrected. "These are only envoys. The real Immortals do not bother descending."
The first envoy floated forward, voice echoing like a commandment.
"Mirror Emperor. You have violated Heaven's decree. You tampered with the path to Immortal Ascension. Submit your Dao and dissolve."
The Emperor remained still.
Another envoy spoke.
"You threatened the balance we maintain."
The next:
"You attempted to force open the gates."
Lin Qing clenched his fists. "So they really did seal it."
"They did," the Emperor said. "They fear what a world of ascenders would become. I merely tried to break the lock."
Above him, fragments of a crown spun slowly into existence—each shard reflecting a different landscape, a different sky. The Mirror Crown, cracked beyond repair.
The first envoy raised a hand. "This is your final chance."
The Emperor stepped forward.
"It never was."
The plain trembled.
The envoys reacted instantly—golden runes forming beneath their feet as law and decree surged together. The air thickened until Lin Qing felt as if his lungs had turned to stone.
Even through memory, he could barely stay standing.
The Emperor moved.
A wave of silver reflection burst outward from him, twisting the battlefield into a storm of overlapping images. Mirrors formed and shattered in rapid succession, each explosion distorting the golden sky.
The envoys descended in unison.
Spears of law.
Chains of Heavenly order.
Blades forged of pure decree.
The impact was catastrophic. The plain split open. The sky shook. Light and shadow tore each other apart.
Lin Qing couldn't follow the movements—everything happened too fast, too violently. This wasn't a fight. It was a collision between one man's will and the machinery of Heaven.
And slowly, inevitably, the Emperor began to falter.
A spear of decree pierced his side.
A chain wrapped around his shoulder.
A blade of order cut across his chest.
He dropped to one knee, blood trailing down his arm.
The seventh envoy raised a finger. "Surrender your Dao. Your struggle ends here."
The Emperor exhaled calmly. "You misunderstand."
He touched his chest, right over his heart. A faint, nearly invisible pulse of silver glimmered beneath his robes—a seed of reflection so small it was almost nothing.
"I left long ago," he said. "You're killing the remnant."
Light engulfed him as the envoys' combined attack descended.
The world detonated, but Lin Qing remained standing, untouched, inside a pocket of stillness as the memory folded inward like paper.
The Emperor turned to him one last time. His form was beginning to dissolve.
"You're the path I carved," he said quietly. "A soul sent beyond Heaven's reach. A life they cannot track. You are my attempt to start again—free of karma, free of chains."
Lin Qing's throat tightened. "And what do you expect from me?"
The Emperor gave the faintest smile, something weary and hopeful at the same time.
"Not perfection."
His body broke into silver fragments.
"Just… don't be me."
The world shattered.
Lin Qing gasped and found himself back in the inheritance chamber, palms shaking, heart pounding as if he had lived the Emperor's death himself. A faint warmth glowed beneath his skin where the Mirror Heart Lotus pulsed, stronger and steadier than before.
He whispered to the empty chamber, "I'm not your shadow."
His eyes sharpened, silver light flickering in the depths.
"And I won't kneel either."
The chamber trembled as if acknowledging the vow.