Li Yuan raised an eyebrow. “What? Afraid the mirror will show my sins…and you won’t know what to do with me after?” This time, Yan Yu didn’t hesitate. Her dark eyes lifted, sharp and resolute. “I can stop being the Ghost Street Judge,” she said softly, “I can burn down every temple they’ve built for me…but I cannot lose my family. Not you. Not Sheng’er. If keeping you means abandoning everything else, then I will abandon it. If losing you means becoming an evil ghost of the deepest hells, so be it.” Yan Yu’s words struck him more deeply than she probably intended. Li Yuan’s smile faded. “Then let’s do it,” he said gently. “Let me see.” Part of him was genuinely curious. What would the mirror show him? Would it reveal the man he was before he crossed into this world? Would it somehow expose the mystery of how he came here in the first place? As for secrets, there weren’t many left between him and Yan Yu. She already knew the truth about his eternal youth, about his pursuit of immortality. If she were to learn a little more today, so be it. Yan Yu said nothing. From her robe, she withdrew a bronze mirror —larger, heavier, older than the rest, almost like a mother mirror— and set it down before him. She didn’t step away. She didn’t need to look. Whatever the mirror revealed, she would see it all the same. Li Yuan faced the mirror. And the mirror awakened. One by one, images surged into view, fragments of his past laid bare like wounds torn open. Darkness. Deception. Desire. Betrayal. Faces blurred in shadow, whispers curling like smoke. Li Yuan stared quietly, but his outward calm was an illusion. Inside, his chest felt tight, his heartbeat heavy and uneven. The mirror wasn’t just showing him the past, it was forcing him to feel it. It was alive, in a way, and carried a terrible weight. If what it reflected was tainted by lies, blood, or evil deeds…the mirror punished the heart itself, striking it with guilt, dread, and bitter remorse. Li Yuan’s knuckles turned white as waves of unease rose in his chest. Then came the Bladeseekers. The mirror revealed the countless deaths tied to it,  the people who had perished because of its creation, their souls twisted into exotic beasts. In the reflection, they seemed to crawl out of the glass, their ghostly claws raking at him, clinging to his arms and legs, trying to drag him down into hell. Faces of those he had killed flickered into existence, one after another. He hadn’t killed excessively, but it wasn’t a small number either. Among them were true villains deserving death…but there were also the wronged, the mistaken, the innocent whose blood had stained his hands. They appeared before him, spectral and hollow-eyed, voices like a low dirge whispering accusations against his ears, cursing him in tongues sharp as knives. And among them…he saw one face he could never forget, the Son of Heaven. He had killed the Emperor. He had taken the Emperor’s woman. He had stolen the Emperor’s child. If anyone in this world had reason to curse him, it was the dead ruler whose spirit now breathed fury into his ear. Everything, every sin and every shadow, flooded into him at once. It felt real, too real, like stepping into a nightmare that didn’t end. No wonder the prisoners locked in the iron cages had crumbled under this mirror’s gaze, weeping and begging for forgiveness. At first, Li Yuan endured it well enough…but soon his body was drenched in cold sweat. A tremor ran through his shoulders. In the reflection, his pupils were wide, dark, and unsteady, his breath ragged. Fear… Raw, suffocating fear flickered in his eyes. And yet, he didn’t kneel. He didn’t wail. He clenched his fists so hard that blood welled from his palms, forcing his body to stand firm, refusing to bow before guilt, curses, or ghosts. Li Yuan’s fists tightened until his knuckles creaked, veins standing taut beneath his skin. He kept holding on, harder, tighter, until it felt like his own hands would shatter under the strain. And then, just as his body reached its breaking point, the mirror shifted. The chaotic flood of memories receded, layer by layer, retreating all the way back…back to the very beginning. Back to Gemhill County. Li Yuan’s eyes flew open. His breath came ragged and heavy, his soaked hair clinging messily to his pale face. Sweat dripped down his jaw, but in those deep, shadowed eyes…his resolve was unshaken. Yan Yu watched him quietly, her voice soft as falling ash. “Husband…this heart of yours…it truly is born of the demonic.” Li Yuan exhaled slowly, forcing his trembling hands to loosen. His voice was steady, almost calm. “In times like these, who can afford not to guard themselves?” He gave a faint, bitter smile. “I just want our family to live, Yan Yu. To live well. How does that make me a demon? I am Li Yuan. Not a god. Not a demon. Just…me.” Yan Yu hesitated for a moment, then lowered her gaze and whispered, almost apologetically, “Then… I was wrong.” She paused, her tone softening further. “I am Yan Yu. Neither the Ghost Street Judge nor a ghost.” Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, they both smiled, one that was tired, but genuine. Then they turned their gazes back to the bronze mirror. The scenes shifted again, peeling away one memory after another until they arrived at that day, the day that changed everything. The day Li Yuan first arrived in this world. His pupils narrowed slightly, his expression calm but focused as he stared into the mirror, wondering if this artifact—a ghost item born from Yan Yu’s own connection to the Supreme Yin—could reveal what truly happened that day. At first, Yan Yu wasn’t concerned. To her, his memories had always seemed normal, unremarkable. But then, the mirror stirred , and what they saw was anything but normal. Across the polished bronze, a vision bloomed. A vast ocean spread endlessly into darkness, its waters black and deep as the void itself. And there, upon the quiet surface, sat the silhouette of a woman in azure robes. She was breathtaking, a beauty so profound it felt unreal, her presence carrying a quiet power that bent the world around her. Every subtle movement, every tilt of her hand, held an otherworldly grace. The woman leaned slightly forward, fingertips grazing the ocean’s surface, gently stirring ripples across the stillness, almost as if she were calling to something beneath the depths. And then…from deep below, something stirred. A faint, transparent figure began to rise slowly toward the surface. Around it, three strands of radiant light spiraled, converging upon it like rivers returning to the sea. The entire scene was serene, majestic…and deeply, hauntingly mysterious. Li Yuan and Yan Yu both leaned closer, transfixed. But before they could see more, the mirror gave a low, grinding crackle. CRACK! The vision wavered. The ocean blurred. The azure figure dissolved into smoke. Thıs content belongs to 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝙣𝙚𝙩 BOOM! The bronze mirror shattered. The sound wasn’t isolated. All across the Ghost Prison, every single mirror exploded at once. The iron cages rattled violently as the prisoners inside shrieked in agony, clutching their heads, their screams raw and piercing enough to shake the ground. Li Yuan staggered as a sudden spike of searing pain pierced his mind, like needles stabbing straight into his skull. He clenched his teeth and endured, forcing himself upright, before whipping his gaze toward Yan Yu. “Yan Yu! Are you alright?” Yan Yu shook her head slowly, her expression steady but unreadable. “Ghosts do not get hurt. The mirrors are gone for now…but they’ll reform again in time.” Her gaze darkened slightly. “But that scene we saw, what was it? Why would you have such a memory buried inside you?” Li Yuan drew in a slow breath, exhaling quietly. Inside, he sighed to himself. So it’s true…this world’s power can’t touch the secret of my transmigration. Then, with his face perfectly composed, he replied lightly, “That day, I was being chased by a wild boar. Took a bad hit and passed out cold. Must’ve dreamed the whole thing. I dreamed I was drifting in the middle of the sea…waves roaring in my ears…and you were calling me, Yan Yu, telling me we’d run out of millet at home. You told me to get up and go hunt.” He said it with the kind of casual ease that made it sound like nothing at all. But inside…his heart was still pounding from what he’d seen. “Out of millet at home?” Yan Yu frowned faintly, shaking her head. “I…don’t remember anymore.” Li Yuan gave a soft chuckle and leaned against the shattered mirror frame. “Well, if what we saw really has something to do with me, then I’m probably that figure rising from the depths of the sea. And that beautiful woman above the water…could that be you, Yan Yu?” Yan Yu hesitated, her gaze lowering slightly. Then she shook her head firmly, pausing before frowning. “No. I saw her clearly. That wasn’t me.” The two exchanged a long, thoughtful look, neither fully certain what to make of it. Finally, they agreed: once the copper mirrors re-formed, they’d try again. But Li Yuan’s thoughts were already racing. If my arrival in this world wasn’t an accident…if someone deliberately pulled me across… Then the transparent figure rising from the depths was likely himself. But the mysterious woman above the surfacewho was she? And why had she called him here? And what about those three streams of light converging into his body? Could they be tied to the strange powers within him, his Eternal Youth, his vision, and his System? Li Yuan exhaled slowly, his expression darkening. This world is deeper than I imagined…much deeper. I’ll need to grow stronger. Much stronger. This chance glimpse into the mirror had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just a mystery; it was a warning. Not long after, Yan Yu summoned Zhong Kui. By then, Li Yuan had already shifted his appearance, disguising himself as an unremarkable commoner. After receiving Yan Yu’s instructions, Zhong Kui bowed respectfully and led Li Yuan deep beneath the Bladeseekers, into the underground prisons. The moment Li Yuan entered, the stench of damp stone and iron filled his nose. This wasn’t a small holding cell. The prison had been massively expanded, and its chambers were packed tight with prisoners. And not ordinary ones, every single person locked inside was a mad sixth rank cultivator. Nearly three years had passed since the ghost cavalry first plunged the world into chaos. Under the Lotus Cult and Emperor’s backing, the Bladeseekers had produced an astonishing number of sixth ranks. It was a golden era of breakthroughs, a wave of explosive growth unlike anything before. But there was a darker truth behind this so-called prosperity. These prisoners weren’t random sixth ranks. Every single one of them was meant to become a future ghost cavalry. Originally, the plan was elegant, brutal, and flawless. If the Exotic Beast Park hadn’t been torn apart into three pieces…if the Apparel Atelier had successfully fused with it…then the gates at the depth of the ancient ghost street would have been opened. A new ghost domain would have formed, one no longer tethered to the ancient ghost street’s control, able to roam freely and devour other ghost domains. The Lotus Cult’s vision was simple. When that day came, they would guide this newborn ghost domain out of the Jade Capital and into the southern lands, opening a path of conquest. And when that happened, these mad sixth rank prisoners would awaken, becoming a second army of ghost cavalry, slaughtering across the continent and securing the Lotus Cult’s dominance. That was the grand design. But the plan had collapsed. The Exotic Beast Park was shattered. The chains of preparation broke midway. And now, all of these carefully groomed ghost-cavalry-in-waiting…had fallen right into Li Yuan’s lap. He stood before the rows of cells, staring at the prisoners shackled in special restraints. The sight was staggering. There were over 300 of them just in this section alone, eyes vacant, minds fractured, their shadows twitching unnaturally in the torchlight. Zhong Kui, standing beside him, suddenly spoke in a low, solemn tone, “Sir, this is only one holding ground. There are nine other prisons…each the same size. Each one holding 300 sixth ranks.” Li Yuan’s gaze sharpened, though he said nothing for a long while. The Lotus Cult had been ready. They had been fully prepared to unleash an unstoppable second wave of ghost cavalry. And yet…their scheme was too elaborate, their machinery too delicate. One broken link, and the whole thing unraveled. He finally exhaled, voice quiet but firm. “Everything you’ve seen here…keep it buried in your gut. Not a word to anyone. No one.” Zhong Kui lowered his head, his expression grave. “Yes, sir.” Yet, deep in his eyes, there was a flicker of something else, curiosity…and caution. Because he didn’t believe for a second that the ordinary man standing beside him was who he pretended to be. For reasons he couldn’t explain, a name suddenly surfaced in his mind—Li Yuan. Countless hidden threads seemed to converge on this single man. A figure shrouded in mystery, always lingering at the very edges of the great upheavals shaking the world. He was unseen, untouchable, and yet…every so often, his shadow would flash across the stage, revealing just enough to make one realize how deeply he was involved. And most crucial of all, this man was the husband of the Ghost Street Judge herself. That thought alone made Zhong Kui’s reverence deepen. He straightened his back and answered solemnly, “Yes, sir!” Li Yuan nodded slightly. “Go for now. Come back tomorrow, then take me to the next place.” “Yes!” Zhong Kui bowed and departed. Li Yuan turned his gaze toward the hundreds of deranged sixth ranks locked within the cells. Then, slowly, he approached them. At his chest, something stirred. A lotus. It was a lotus formed from 856 ancestral seal seeds, blooming silently beneath his ribs. Its faint radiance made his chest seem almost transparent. Each petal was a blade. These blades were the crystallized essence of countless seventh rank martial artists who had broken into the sixth rank, the ancestral seal seeds they had forged through exhausting cultivation. Li Yuan had harvested them, tempered them, nourished them, and refined them…turning them into something stronger, sharper, more perfect. The moment he neared, the madness-filled sixth ranks fell strangely silent. On their chests, one by one, faint blood-red lotus petals began to bloom. Li Yuan walked slowly between the rows of cells, his expression calm, movements deliberate. He raised a hand and plucked the petals. And with each petal he drew, the twisted red faded away, replaced by a serene, flawless lotus. The deranged sixth ranks collapsed softly where they stood, breathing evenly, faces peaceful as if waking from a nightmare. Their eyes remained closed, but the violent struggle within them had vanished.