Six Hours Later…
Second Chamber — The Lake of Reflection!
"ARGHHH! DAMN YOU ALL TO THE NINTH LEVEL OF THE ABYSS!"
SPLASH! SPLASH!
Su Xiaobai staggered out of the hidden corridor, blood and sweat soaking his shredded robes, which clung to him in a pitiful mess, as though even his clothes were too tired to go on.
His hair, once intimidating, was plastered to his face in limp strands, making him look more like a soaked stray than the reincarnated villain feared in stories.
With a grunt of disgust, he hurled a severed limb—courtesy of some fanged demonic beast—straight into the lake before him.
SPLASH!
"Hah!" He watched it sink, imagining it was one of those high-and-mighty elders who'd come up with this "shortcut."
"Follow the statues' direction, they said," he muttered, wiping his bloodied brow and only smearing it worse. "Oh, yes, step right in the way they're pointing. Real clever! Led me straight into a nest of beasts! Who's the genius who decided on that? — If I ever meet them, they'll get to feel what it's like when directions switch and the stick goes right where the sun doesn't shine."
He stretched his arms, grimacing as his bruised, sliced-up body protested.
Every inch ached, a miserable reminder of the six hours he'd spent hacking, clawing, and cursing his way out of that nightmare of a corridor.
A twisted part of him almost admired the higher-ups for their craftiness—almost.
But in the end, he figured they were likely just getting a good laugh out of his misery.
"Six hours of fighting through that endless hordes of beasts," he muttered bitterly. "For what? Just to learn the statues weren't pointing the way forward?" He spat into the lake, glaring at his own reflection. "Either they're trying to mess with me on purpose, or those ancient codgers up top have lost their wits."
"Where the hell even am I right now?..."
Taking a deep, exasperated breath, he finally looked around, noting the chamber's eerie, open space.
The ceiling far above, a spiked stone mouth as if the tomb itself wanted to swallow him whole. Below, an impossibly still lake stretched out, dark and silent.
Its glassy surface reflected the chamber like a void leading straight to the underworld.
He could feel something ancient in the air, a pulsing energy that made his skin prickle.
"Oh, great. A lake," he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because nothing ever goes wrong around giant, creepy lakes in ancient caves." He squinted suspiciously at the water, half-expecting some tentacled horror to lunge out the second he set foot on it.
Floating stone platforms led across the lake toward an altar in the center.
The altar practically hummed with an ominous aura, like it was daring him to step forward.
"!"
But as he was about to take a step, Su Xiaobai froze, his gaze shifting across the lake.
On the platforms, he saw a group of disciples—young cultivators, each one locked in battle with a shadowy clone of themselves.
And not just any disciples. Oh, no. These were the same fools who had snickered outside this cave the last time, when he was peacefully asleep after taming his bloodlines.
A cruel grin spread across Su Xiaobai's face as he leaned against a rock, arms crossed. "Well, well," he murmured, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Look who's having a bit of trouble now."
He watched the disciples struggle against their shadows, each yelp and grunt from them like music to his ears.
It was the perfect end to a miserable day.
Su Xiaobai chuckled, savoring the 'mess' across the lake.
Each of the so-called elites wrestled with their shadowy doubles in a miserable dance of self-inflicted agony. Liu Zhenhai, slashing wildly, looked ready to scream as his clone mirrored every strike, while Xiao Yu's fists swung heavier with exhaustion.
Fatty Zhou, who usually had a strategy for escaping trouble, was driven back by his doppelganger's advance, barely holding his ground.
And Lan Meiyu—her charms, all the coquettish glances and infuriating sighs, utterly useless here—was left gritting her teeth in frustration as her clone countered every flirtatious flick of her eyes with an equally mocking look.
"Ah, trapped in a tragic little ballet with their own reflections," Su Xiaobai snickered, shaking his head. "And these bastards called me weak? I swear, my respect for the future just died a little."
The irony wasn't lost on him.
They had jeered, sneering when he'd was defenseless.
Yet — Now here they were, helplessly battling their own shadows.
It was almost enough to make him forget the hours he'd just clawed through in that cursed corridor.
Almost.
Then his gaze drifted, and he froze.
"!!"
Standing at the edge of the lake, observing the pathetic scene with an air of casual detachment, was Elder Bai. She watched her students like a passing curiosity, her face unreadable save for the faintest flicker of amusement.
Midnight-dark robes hung from her frame like silk woven from shadows and starlight, flowing as though the world itself dared not touch her.
She held a jade-handled parasol, as if this was just a pleasant stroll through a moonlit garden rather than a chamber of trials.
"..."
Su Xiaobai felt his smirk falter, his heart giving a hard, unwilling thump. This wasn't the empty gaze of some overindulgent sect elder—no, her presence carried the weight of centuries.
Her beauty was fierce, as though carved from the same cold, unforgiving blade she seemed to embody.
She was the kind of danger that didn't need to chase you down; you simply fell into her path, and that was that.
"!!"
Her gaze drifted over him, and a chill settled in his bones. Those eyes—depthless, fathomless—seemed to pierce straight through him, peeling back every layer of arrogance and bitterness until he felt bare before her.
And in that moment, he knew she had seen it all: every curse he muttered, every wild-eyed glare, and him stumbling out drenched in blood, naked and battered.
Her gaze held the faintest flicker of amusement, as though the entire scene was mildly entertaining to her, as if she had encountered some rare creature in her long, monotonous life...
And, to his irritation, she didn't seem even slightly bothered by the fact that, despite her warning, he'd still managed to sneak into the tomb.
And then, just as swiftly, her gaze slid away, as if he were nothing more than a passing shadow.
"Sigh..."
He let out a slow breath, feeling an unexpected warmth creep up his neck. Frustration, resentment—and something else he refused to name—twisted inside him. 'Damn,' he thought, forcing himself to look away.
Her beauty filled with contradictions. Her face, smooth as jade, held a chill that could make a man forget his purpose, yet her scarlet lips hinted at danger—a thrill wrapped in elegance.
But it was her effortless stillness, the serene confidence with which she held herself, that struck him.
There was no strain, no struggle; only the quiet assurance of someone who'd long since left the trials of mortals behind.
A pang of nostalgia struck him, a sharp reminder of the heights he once commanded—days when the world bent beneath his will.
But those days were long gone, buried under lifetimes of dust and disgrace.
Now, he was little more than a pest to these so-called cultivators, an outsider scrabbling his way through every cursed trial Higher-ups threw at him.
Yet, as he stood there, still filled with the adrenaline from six hours spent carving through beasts, a shadow of his former self seemed to flicker over his face—powerful and confident, someone who wasn't used to being at the bottom of the food chain.