Overdraw the future and become a peerless martial god

Chapter 185 The Mirror

black.

Utterly black.

There was no sky, no earth, no sound, and no time.

Chu Ning's consciousness seemed to be enveloped by a thick soul veil, unable to break free.

After an unknown amount of time, a sliver of gray light suddenly appeared from ahead, like a crack in the ice.

Then, the entire void suddenly burst open, transforming into a giant "mirror".

The mirror had no edge, no frame, and no reflection.

It simply stood quietly in front of it.

An ancient soul voice, as if coming from the depths of chaos, slowly resounded in the depths of Chu Ning's soul sea.

The voice was silent, yet it sounded like some ancient inquiry, striking in the stillness.

His mind trembled, and the surrounding soul energy quivered slightly. He saw ripples spreading across the mirror in front of him, which was not yet fully illuminated.

A figure slowly emerged from the depths of the mirror—it was himself.

However, at this moment, "he" had disheveled hair covering his face, tattered clothes, and no breath left, looking like a dying man.

In the next instant, the mirror shattered, and the light and shadow changed abruptly.

The soul consciousness seemed to be dragged by an unseen force, traversing a very deep layer of the soul realm.

There was no wind, no light, only a feeling of sinking as if falling into an abyss.

The world suddenly turned upside down.

Chu Ning's vision went black for a moment, then he opened his eyes.

He found himself in an endless sea of ​​sand.

The sky and earth were dim and yellow, the sun and moon were nowhere to be seen, and the gray light, like dust, was spread across the undulating sand dunes like ashes.

The sky was devoid of light, and the surrounding fields were deathly silent.

The sand beneath my feet was warm as blood, like some memory that had not yet cooled.

He looked down and saw a figure lying quietly a hundred paces away.

That is himself.

No more breathing, no more light.

The "Destiny Lock Seal" between his eyebrows had become blurred, his soul wheel was broken, and his sea of ​​consciousness was silent.

His robes were torn, his Broken Snow Blade was shattered, and the thunderous energy scattered in the sand, as if the last trace of thunder and fire in the world had finally been extinguished.

Chu Ning walked slowly closer.

The body of that "future self" was stiff, yet showed no signs of struggle—as if it had not died in battle, but rather at its destined end.

The area was deserted; Xie Mingli was nowhere to be seen, and Chu Yun was nowhere to be found.

Heaven and earth offer no response; heaven and man are separated.

The thunder and fire have long since covered the ground; everything has returned to nothing.

The sofa beneath my feet made a soft creaking sound; with each step, it felt as if I were pressing my past and present lives into the sand.

Suddenly, a voice rang in my ears, ancient and serene, as if seeping from the depths of the sand:
"If this is the only outcome you can have in your life, would you still be willing to take this step?"

The voice was not intimidating, even gentle, yet it carried an unavoidable heaviness.

Chu Ning did not answer immediately.

He simply walked to the side of his "dead self" and slowly sat down.

A gentle breeze brushed past his temples, stirring the fragments of the broken snow blade, which traced a faint light in the air.

He looked down at the body that had lost its soul.

That was indeed him.

There was not a trace of falsehood; even the bloodstains on the corners of the lips and the calluses on the palms were exactly the same.

He suddenly realized that this was not just an illusion, but a possible final chapter written by fate.

One breath, two breaths, and he slowly spoke:
"If it must be this way..."

"I want to die knowing why."

The tone was calm, without any sense of tragedy or resistance.

This response was simply engraved into this place as a monument.

The next instant, the "corpse" quietly disintegrated, returning to dust like sand, scattering across the world with the wind.

The entire desert world trembled slightly, and cracks spread from his feet, like a shattered mirror.

"Click."

The illusion collapsed, and the Thunder Soul returned to its place.

Chu Ning's mind was shaken, and his soul trembled violently, but it did not dissipate.

He slowly rose, as if he had just returned from a deep dream, his gaze calm.

He did not reject death, but faced it squarely.

This is the first question posed by the Floating Pavilion in the Mirror.

He responded by saying "Sit down".

It's neither fighting nor running away.

It's simply a choice to face it, a choice to see clearly the end of this step.

Even if the end is annihilation, he is willing to walk there clearly.

The light and shadows shifted abruptly, and the world was turned upside down.

When the mirror shattered, the soul had not yet returned to its place.

Chu Ning felt a slight tremor in his mind, and his soul sea trembled as if it were the bottom of the sea. Some familiar voices seemed to come from a very far distance—it sounded like Xie Mingli's whispers, or like Chu Yun's light laughter.

He thought that the three questions had been answered.

Little did they know that the true Soul Mirror often does not appear in the form of interrogation.

Instead, after you put down the knife, I'll ask you a question:
Do you still want to walk back?

Before he could even discern the source of the sound, the next illusion had already quietly unfolded.

Chu Ning opened his eyes and found himself standing on a familiar yet distant bronze altar.

Emperor Soul Platform.

Surrounded by high walls and double eaves, the imperial garden of the capital was as cold as iron.

Below the steps, a solemn array of seats was arranged, including civil officials, military generals, members of the imperial clan, officials from the Imperial Clan Court, the Court of Law, the Inner Historian, and the Master of Ceremonies.

Not a memory.

It is a mirror image.

The person in the mirror is silent, but the image of the soul speaks with a chilling, murderous tone.

"You've ruined the law!"

"You've ruined your bloodline!"

"You have severed the very foundation of a nation!"

"You—with the body of a scattered soul, have seized the lives of all the souls in the world!"

That was neither a roar nor a rebuke, but rather the ironclad law of a thousand years, formed by the collective thoughts of all the officials, transformed into runes that surrounded the Emperor's Soul Platform in layers.

Every sound came from all directions to Chu Ning, as if the heavens and earth themselves were questioning him.

The altar was empty except for him, who stood alone in the center.

The Soul-Slaying Blade had long since vanished, yet he could still feel the lingering warmth of the Broken Snow Blade in his hand.

He didn't look back.

But he knew that behind him, Xie Mingli and Chu Yun stood silently—without speaking or moving.

They didn't even ask, "Do you regret it?"

They simply stood there, letting him know:
You are not alone, but only you can bear this responsibility.

Suddenly, a deep voice appeared on the Soul Mirror:

"Who will bear the consequences of your actions?"

This is not a question from the outside world, but a question from the Soul Mirror.

It is the mirror image's true questioning of the "cost of decision-making".

The soul image awaits his explanation, or his roar, or his remorse, or even a simple "I had no other choice."

But Chu Ning didn't have any of those.

He simply lowered his head calmly, looking down at the shattered remnant of the Emperor's Soul Diagram, which floated in the void like a broken destiny in the illusion.

He spoke softly, his tone like a libation:

"Since no one dared to take the blame, I executed him."

As soon as he finished speaking, the Soul Mirror trembled.

The surrounding officials' soul images folded like pieces of paper, disintegrated into countless cracks, and dissolved into the steps, jade walls, and bronze patterns of the Emperor's Soul Platform.

In the end, it was not the condemnation of the masses that shattered.

Instead, it was the Emperor's Soul Diagram, suspended in mid-air and already shattered.

"Snapped."

The Soul Mirror shattered, and the illusion vanished.

He slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his expression was neither joyful nor sorrowful, only showing a deep weariness.

—Not because he has no regrets.

Rather, he never let "regret" dictate his direction.

He thought that the questioning in the mirror was over.

But the final chapter of Ke Jingwen's story is neither a rebuke nor a calamity.

Instead, they hand you a cup of warm tea and say:
"You can actually not carry any burden."

The real danger is not the pain.

Instead, it makes you start to believe that "it's okay to be fine without pain."

When he woke up, he was in a warm house.

Morning light streamed through the cracks in the wooden window, the thin mist was slightly white, and the light and shadows were cast obliquely on the table.

The copper kettle was still warm, and the aroma of tea wafted gently. In the corner sat several well-worn books and yesterday's unfinished lecture notes.

He paused for a moment, then looked down at himself—his hands were unmarked, unsealted, and uninjured.

A bird hopped a couple of steps outside the window frame, pecked at the wooden windowpane, and flew away.

A clear call came from the street corner:

"Mr. Chu, don't let your morning tea get cold!"

He turned back with a smile, casually put on his outer robe, and pushed open the door to go out.

At the alley entrance, there's a small restaurant run by Grandpa Lei Wanjun, who also owns a martial arts school in town. His cooking is rough, but the flavors are authentic. A morning breeze blows, kites flutter, and children practice their boxing on the street corner, their shouts ringing out like bells.

He waved to them, and the children stood at attention and saluted:

Good morning, Mr. Chu!

He smiled and nodded, casually saying, "Stop fooling around, remember to study."

He was a schoolteacher in the town, surnamed Chu, with the given name "Ning".

Everything was calm, proper, and warm.

On the table inside the room, several familiar names were written:
"Xie Mingli" - the daughter of the town's pharmacist, who occasionally brings herbs to be used as teaching aids;
"Chu Yun" - the daughter of the neighbor, who, although not a relative, often helped copy the lecture notes;
Lei Wanjun – the noisiest person in town, but also the one who takes the best care of him.

There is no Wang family.

There is no Emperor Soul.

There was no fatal calamity or blood oath.

In this peaceful world, he was just a somewhat serious and mild-mannered Mr. Wen.

He lowered his head and casually wrote a sentence in the blank space of his handout:
"When the world is at peace, everyone can learn from it."

He paused for a moment, then suddenly felt a slight warmth in his fingertips.

Xie Mingli arrived at the perfect time, neither too early nor too late.

She carried a medicine basket on her back, her steps light, her clothes brushing against the bluestone alley.

The courtyard gate was ajar. She didn't knock, but walked straight in and placed a bunch of freshly dried herbs on the shelf.

“You’ve been forgetting about nasal deodorant these past few days, so I brought you some extra.”

She spoke naturally, without looking at him, only bending down to arrange the herbs. He picked up a teacup, poured a cup, and handed it to her.

She sat down, placed her fingers on the rim of the cup, and gently twirled it.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered, and she reached out to pat his shoulder.

“Some flowers have fallen,” she said softly.

Chu Ning was startled and looked down, only to find that a petal of osmanthus had fallen onto her shoulder at some point, and its edges were already slightly curled.

She didn't rush to withdraw her fingers, but gently picked up the petal and casually placed it into the teacup on the table.

Ripples spread across the tea, and the fragrance of flowers blends with the steam, quietly dissipating.

Chu Ning didn't speak, but just stared at the cup of tea and then at her.

Mingli didn't look at him again, but lowered her head and sipped the tea, as if this was how it was supposed to be.

Neither of them spoke.

After a long while, she suddenly looked up at him, her eyes were indifferent, but deep:
"You're doing well now."

Chu Ning lowered her head, did not reply, and only smiled softly.

It sounded like agreement, but also like... not hearing it.

Mingli glanced at him, then got up to take her leave.

He escorted her to the door, watching her figure disappear into the mist.

He stood in front of the door for a long time, until the tea got cold, before slowly turning around.

He sat back down at his desk and turned to the previous page of his lecture notes.

Suddenly, a lightning-shaped pattern appeared at the bottom of the page. It was extremely faint and fine, yet it carried an undeniable sense of familiarity.

He frowned slightly, subconsciously picked up his pen, and gently pressed it down with a "seal talisman".

The marks disappeared, as if they had never existed.

But at that very moment, his heart suddenly tightened.

It wasn't pain, but a strange emptiness—like forgetting something.

He stared at the page, a vague anxiety rising within him, as if his body knew something was wrong with the world, but his consciousness was unaware.

He put down his pen, his gaze somewhat unfocused.

The wind suddenly stopped.

Suddenly everything fell silent; even the sound of paper rubbing together was gone.

A voice sounded behind his ear, gentle, yet inescapable:

"Are you willing to stay here indefinitely?"

He looked up and saw that there was no one around. The morning mist had stopped, and even the sunlight had ceased to move.

The voice rang out again:
"If you had never met Xie Mingli, never lost Chu Yun, never severed the Emperor's Soul, and never bore the responsibilities of the masses—would you rather live like this?"

Chu Ning slowly stood up.

His hands still retained the sensation of pressing down the lightning pattern, and were faintly warm.

He looked out the window at the sky, where the morning mist was still and picturesque, the children on the street corner were no longer noisy, and even the shadows of the trees in the wind were frozen into an endless scroll.

He whispered:

"I am willing, and I want to."

But as soon as he finished speaking, he felt as if something had gently bumped into his heart.

The image of Xie Mingli looking at him flashed before his eyes—not tenderness, not attachment, but a deep, quiet trust and worry intertwined.

It was the sentence she didn't say that night under the lamplight outside the courtyard: "Come back."

And Dong'er.

The girl who sheltered him from the wind and snow in the far north. Even though her lips were blue from the cold, she gritted her teeth and said:

"I will wait for you."

I'm waiting for you to come back, waiting for you to no longer carry the burden alone.

And Qingli.

She slept peacefully deep within the well of the coffin, her soul lamp flickering faintly, yet never extinguished. That wisp of her remnant soul, like herself, remained silent, yet always accompanied him through life and death.

They are still here.

Not in this dream town.

Then he realized—he couldn't stay.

If he stays, those people's future will never exist again.

He slowly uttered his last words:
"...But I can't."

He walked to the window and gently lifted the paper windowpane with his fingers.

Suddenly, a gust of wind rushed in.

Thunderous breath surged forth!

"Click."

The entire illusion shattered instantly like a mirror, light and shadow contracted in opposite directions, and the soul returned like a tide.

He stood there, cold sweat trickling down his forehead, his palms burning with pain.

—He broke the mirror.

It's not because I don't yearn for that kind of ordinariness.

It was because he understood that the real "loss" in life was not the loss of security, but the loss of "the ability to face fate".

Just as the mirror shattered completely, before his soul could return, Chu Ning suddenly sensed something amiss.

The broken mirror reflected a pure white scene.

It wasn't lightning, nor starlight, but a pure white expanse like a vast snowfield.

In the center of that white mist, a woman's figure appeared.

She stood quietly, her face blurred, her features gentle yet unattainable.

The surrounding world was silent; not even the sound of a soul could be heard.

But her eyes seemed to be fixed on him.

The next instant, the mirror light vanished, and the entire illusory space collapsed as if struck by lightning.

Before he could even identify the woman, the "lock mark" between his brows suddenly twitched, as if it had triggered some pre-set boundary.

An extremely strong "boundary pressure" surged from all directions in an instant, intercepting the last connection between him and the Mirror Heaven.

Before he could even speak, his soul was forcefully pushed out.

"boom!"

The sea of ​​consciousness exploded like thunder, light and shadow shattered into pieces, and all illusions, sounds, and snowy afterimages were annihilated in an instant.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

Amidst the starlight, he stood prominently at the heart of the Star Platform formation.

His breathing was unsteady, his soul was trembling, and his thunder soul was still throbbing rapidly deep within his sea of ​​consciousness, as if it had undergone a complete reshaping of his soul sea.

He was momentarily unable to determine whether reality was true.

But the next moment, a cold, burning sensation rose from the palm of his hand.

He looked down and saw that a dark silver lock-shaped pattern had quietly appeared on the Soul Wheel, like a seal of thunder and fire, or a chain of heavenly secrets, encircling the outermost ring of the Soul Wheel.

It is neither an inscription nor a seal.

That is the "key seal" between the soul and the world.

—The Soul Lock has been first opened.

He looked down and saw that the dark silver "soul lock mark" on the soul wheel was slowly rotating, seemingly connected to some extremely deep place.

Suddenly, a very short stream of soul energy surged from the depths of the soul lock, leaving a fleeting afterimage:
It was a floating pavilion, or rather, a structural microcosm of some kind of "gateway," carrying a strong aura of rule-repulsion, flashing and disappearing in the starlight.

At the same time, the array patterns beneath the star platform trembled, as if the soul lock had awakened some kind of "guiding chain".

He felt a chill run down his spine, realizing the situation.

The path to the floating pavilion has only just begun to reveal its true "sinking route".

The thunderous breath gradually stabilized, his soul returned, and starlight surrounded him.

But at the end of that light, Chu Ning suddenly felt a subtle pain—not an injury.

It is traction.

He suddenly wondered if Xie Mingli was still waiting outside the floating pavilion.

He had promised her he would come back alive.

Chu Ning stood still, letting the starlight flow around him.

He knew that the final question from the mirror was not yet truly over.

That snow-white figure and that blurry silhouette, like an echo from the depths of fate, would return to him sooner or later.

But at this moment, the starlight shone, illuminating the deep, unwavering resolve in his eyes.

Is the road ahead a mirror abyss that swallows all ages, or the starting point to rewrite one's destiny?

he does not know.

All he knew was that whatever was hidden in the mirror, he had to tear it open—for those who were waiting for his return, and for all the souls that were destined to be locked away.

(End of this chapter)