The Mirror Lake sat within a hidden vale, its surface so still that even birds dared not disturb it. Crystalline and dark, it reflected the sky and soul with equal clarity.

  Beneath its glassy skin shimmered something ancient—an immortal artifact that awakened only during the Trial of Form.

  “Face thyself,” read the inscription above the arching entry stone.

  “Or fall to the shadows you have hidden.”

  Li Fan stood at its edge, alone.

  No spectators this time.

  This trial was private.

  And far more personal.

  The moment his foot touched the water, the world inverted.

  Up became down.

  Water became sky.

  And across from him, standing atop the mirrored lake, was himself.

  Same face. Same stance. Same quiet expression.

  But the figure’s eyes were black. Not from malice… but from emptiness.

  “Why do you struggle?” it asked.

  “Why do you fight fate when even the heavens abandoned you?”

  Li Fan didn’t reply.

  Instead, he drew in a breath.

  The astral essence inside him pulsed—one, two, three beats.

  The stars stirred.

  Black-Li Fan raised his hand—and from his back, twelve black stars ignited like cursed lanterns. He moved like a phantom, each step warping space, striking not with fists, but with regret.

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  “You were never chosen.” Strike.

  “No master. No legacy.” Strike.

  “You fear being nothing.” Strike.

  Each word dragged a chain of memory, each blow heavier than the last.

  Li Fan blocked, but barely. Blood welled at the corner of his mouth.

  Then—he stopped retreating.

  And spoke.

  “You're not me.”

  The world froze.

  “You are what I feared I would become. A hollow vessel. But I’m not empty.”

  “I carry starlight. I carry will. I carry the dreams of a thousand forgotten seeds.”

  His chest burst with silver fire.

  From within him, one of the true stars roared awake—the Star of Ten Thousand Echoes, a constellation forged from every voice that had ever whispered rise again.

  He struck once.

  Just once.

  And the mirror shattered.

  The water beneath his feet melted into mist.

  And in the pieces of the broken lake… he saw her.

  A woman. Gentle. Stern eyes. Starlight in her veins.

  Not Yue Xian. Not the woman from the island.

  Someone older.

  Mother?

  “You are not born of chance,” her voice echoed.

  “You were shaped by the heavens to fracture the cycle.”

  “And if you live long enough… you will choose whether to remake it.”

  Then the vision vanished.

  Li Fan stood again at the shore.

  Breathing hard.

  Alone.

  But not untouched.

  Elder Yue felt it the moment he emerged.

  “His soul… deepened.”

  But she wasn’t the only one.

  In the Pavilion's inner sanctum, a jade slip shattered on its own. Shen Lian’s eyes snapped open.

  “He's accelerating too quickly.”

  From the shadows, a masked figure spoke.

  “Should I arrange an accident?”

  Shen Lian considered it.

  Then shook his head.

  “No. Let the third trial break him.”