I'll make you the furnace and the cauldron, so you can refine Yin and Yang and prove the Great

In the silvery-white void of the fourth level, four mirror images opened their eyes simultaneously. Their faces were identical to Li Hanshan's, and the purple-gold flames flowing around them resembled four lamps lit at the same time against the gray-white background. They did not wait; they moved almost simultaneously—four figures fanned out from behind, their flaming swords slashing at Li Hanshan's vitals from four different angles. The trajectory of each sword precisely replicated the moves and rhythm he had used in the previous two rounds of combat.

Li Hanshan did not rush to retaliate. He used the Fiery Shadow Step, his figure like a leaf blown by the wind, dodging continuously between the four sword lights. Purple-gold flames exploded and extinguished beneath his feet, each shift in position precisely landing in the gaps between the mirrored attacks, like threading a needle between four simultaneously falling blades. While dodging, he condensed pure Yang fire into a tiny fireball in his palm, precisely shooting it towards the right shoulder of the nearest mirrored figure. The trajectory of the fireball carried an awkward arc he rarely used—it was not his usual technique, but rather the starting stance of a side sect technique he had happened to see in the Joyful Union Sect.

The mirror image had indeed failed to anticipate the attack's trajectory. It had relied on the same techniques Li Hanshan had used in the previous round to judge his attack habits, only to stumble upon a move it had never memorized. The fireball exploded on its shoulder, briefly tearing a gap in its balance. Li Hanshan seized the opportunity, his flaming longsword spun half a circle, slicing into the gap from the side, piercing the mirror image's head in one strike. Shattered silver-white specks scattered across the ground, slowly dissipating in the void.

The remaining three mirror images simultaneously sheathed their swords and retreated, readjusting their offensive. However, their movements were a beat slower than before—not because of wear and tear, but because Li Hanshan's movement in that attack did not match any of the trajectories recorded in their databases. They needed extra processing time to analyze that abruptly changed arc.

"As expected," Li Hanshan thought to himself. Each layer of the mirror image would rescan his status at the start of the battle, copying only the moves he had used in the previous round. However, if he displayed a completely new technique in a round, those mirror images would need additional processing time to adapt. Although this window of time was short, it was enough for him to take advantage of.

He didn't give them time to finish analyzing. The Fire Shadow Step exploded again as he proactively faced the mirror image on his left. This time, he used a technique completely different from the Hehuan Sect's methods—a side technique he'd found in the storage bag of a Blood Fiend Sect remnant while in the Northern Wilderness, one he'd never used in any formal competition. Flames condensed into a spiraling spear tip, piercing through the mirror image's defenses. The third and fourth mirror images were also defeated simultaneously using the same method, the entire process taking less than half the number of rounds under normal circumstances.

All four mirror images shattered, and silvery-white specks of light drifted slowly through the void like dandelion seeds scattered by the wind. Li Hanshan stood still, his pure Yang energy circulating through his meridians for a small cycle, sensing the feedback from the attacks he had just received. He noticed a subtle change—whenever he tested a new technique on a mirror image, the trajectory of that technique would be repeatedly verified and corrected in actual combat, like repeatedly rubbing a dull knife against its blade with a whetstone, making his subsequent application more precise.

He stepped forward, entering the fifth level. Eight mirror images simultaneously opened their eyes, their silvery-white light like a cluster of ignited stars, forming a semi-circular array before him. The images' forms remained unchanged, but their movements were ten times faster than on the fourth level, as if infused with an invisible force. Li Hanshan gripped his flaming longsword, not rushing to attack, but first closing his eyes to sense the surroundings for a moment—he could feel that the concentration of spiritual energy in this level was several times higher than on the fourth level, like a compressed spiritual energy furnace continuously powering the mirror images.

He no longer held back many trump cards, instead responding one by one with the techniques he had already mastered. Each strike landed precisely on the gaps between the mirror images, shattering them before they could even complete their scan. On the sixth level, sixteen mirror images surged in like a tide, surrounding him. This time, he began to feel the pressure. The density of the sixteen mirror images attacking simultaneously far exceeded his expectations, like sixteen fully drawn crossbows locking onto the same target from all directions. His pure Yang fire condensed into a rotating wall of fire around him, blocking the sword lights, but the fire wall was being consumed at an accelerating rate, his spiritual energy draining away like a floodgate being opened.

"This level requires a new approach," he murmured to himself. The pure Yang primordial spirit within his sea of ​​consciousness trembled slightly. He ceased suppressing it and channeled a wisp of soul power into the flaming longsword. The purplish-gold flames on the sword suddenly doubled in brightness, and a faint golden halo appeared at the edges—the unique soul power imprint of the pure Yang primordial spirit. He slashed horizontally at the flaming longsword, tempered by soul power. Where the sword light passed, the mirrored defenses were sliced ​​through like thin paper, and the silvery-white fragments exploded in the air into two symmetrical clouds of light.

All sixteen mirror images on the sixth level shattered. However, he was also forced to reveal some of his trump cards from his Pure Yang Primordial Spirit. This was a rhythm he had planned since the first level—to reveal a small part of a new ability on each level, so that the mirror images could never catch up with the total number of his trump cards.

He stepped into the seventh level. Thirty-two mirror images coalesced from the void, their silvery-white light forming a flowing curtain of light before him, like a blazing starry sea. He took a deep breath, his pure Yang energy rapidly circulating within him, silently unleashing the long-forged divine soul sword deep within his sea of ​​consciousness. The golden sword shadow pierced through the layers of mirror image defenses, precisely striking the sea of ​​consciousness of three core mirror images—those core images were like queen bees in a swarm; once severed, the movements of the other images would simultaneously be delayed by half a breath. He seized that half-breath window, unleashing the Fiery Shadow Step and the flaming longsword simultaneously, shattering the mirror images that were momentarily slowed down one by one.

But thirty-two layers were too many, and his spiritual energy was being consumed faster than ever before. The light of his pure Yang fire began to flicker slightly. His breathing became slightly heavier. These seven layers of mirror images were all used to deplete his trump cards; the truly crucial ones were the last two layers—the eighth and ninth layers.

He sheathed his flaming longsword and drew the jet-black broken sword from his storage ring. The ancient patterns on the sword glowed with a ghostly blue light the moment he infused it with pure Yang energy, like a slumbering being awakened. Gripping the broken sword, he stepped into the eighth level, facing the surging silver-white ripples. Sixty-four mirror images simultaneously materialized in the void, their movements nearly twice as fast as those on the seventh level, raining down on him like a barrage of arrows ignited at once. The broken sword twirled in his hand, the ancient patterns acting like activated blades upon contact with the mirror images, tearing them apart one by one. With the alternating cooperation of the broken sword and the Divine Soul Sword, the sixty-four mirror images were shattered by his sword strikes, like harvesting ripe ears of wheat.

When the last mirror image shattered, his spiritual power was mostly depleted; he was breathing rapidly, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He leaned against the invisible boundary in the void, took out a few pills and swallowed them, then closed his eyes to regulate his breathing for a moment. Then he stood up, gripped the broken sword, and poured all the soul power of his pure Yang primordial spirit into it, stepping into the ninth level.

Silence fell. No mirrored reflections materialized, no silvery ripples appeared; only a long, narrow passage silently unfolded before him, like a path illuminated by moonlight, stretching towards a warm direction in the void. The void on either side of the passage still churned with grayish-white mist, but the passage itself was like a meticulously paved stone path, each slab smooth and even, its edges shimmering with a faint golden glow.

Li Hanshan stood at the entrance to the ninth floor, his broken sword held horizontally before him, his pure Yang primordial spirit fully activated, awaiting the anticipated image to appear. But after several breaths, no condensed figure materialized before him. Only the passageway stretched silently across the silvery-white void, as if the long-awaited answer had finally been presented to him.

He whispered something that carried far through the void: "Could it be... I've cleared the game?"