The Inner Sect did not welcome Yao Yi.
Despite passing the trial with impossible precision—or perhaps because of it—a cold wall of silence followed him wherever he went. In the disciples' quarters, conversations fell quiet when he entered. In the mess hall, eyes flicked toward him, then quickly looked away.
He had become a ripple in still water—and that ripple was feared.
The dorm he was assigned was on the edge of the inner courtyard, near a forest of dark green bamboo. Solitary, but clean. His name was etched in fresh ink on the plaque: "Yao Yi – Initiate".
Inside, it smelled of sandalwood and old paper. A bedroll, a writing desk, a meditation mat. Nothing more.
He unpacked the cloth-wrapped bundle the silver-robed elder had given him before departure. Inside lay a dark jade token bearing the emblem of the Ten Sun Sect—ten tiny orbs revolving around a central flame. Beneath it, an envelope.
It was sealed with wax. The scent made Yao Yi pause: plum blossom.
He broke it open. The handwriting was elegant, precise:
"If you're reading this, then you've stepped onto the path you were meant to walk. That mirror chose you for a reason. Trust its voice. Do not seek answers in old scrolls. Instead, watch the birds. They know more than you think."—Father
Yao Yi reread the note three times, his breath shallow.
His father had been dead for ten years.
The next morning, he reported to the Inner Sect Hall as required. Dozens of new initiates gathered under the jade-tiled eaves, each standing by a stone tablet with their names.
An inner elder, bearded and stern, stepped forward with a scroll in hand.
"Disciples will be assigned their first tasks," he said. "Outer missions, beast subjugation, escort duties. You will not learn in meditation alone."
When he reached Yao Yi's name, he paused.
"Hm. Personal directive. From Elder Silvermoon."
That drew murmurs.
Yao Yi was handed a scroll. Sealed.
He opened it once he returned to his quarters. It read:
"Report to Bamboo Grove at midnight. Come alone."
No signature.
The Bamboo Grove at night was not silent.
Cicadas sang like whispering fire. The stalks swayed though no wind stirred. Yao Yi moved barefoot across the moss, his mirror tied tightly at his waist.
A black-cloaked figure stood waiting.
"You came," the voice was feminine—young, but calm.
From the shadows stepped a girl in inner sect robes, though hers bore a silver edge. She removed her hood.
White hair. Silver eyes. A face too serene for her age.
"I'm Ling Yue. Personal disciple of Elder Silvermoon. He sent me."
"To test me?"
"No. To warn you."
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a bloodstained scrap of parchment.
"This was found outside the sect walls. Marked with your name."
Yao Yi stared.
The symbol etched into the blood… was the same as the one beneath the trial arena. Ten suns, broken.
"They know," she said. "About your bloodline."
Yao Yi clenched his fists. "Who?"
Ling Yue looked at the sky.
"The ones who sent the crow."
The following days blurred into a rhythm of duty and silence. As a member of the Combat Patrol, Yao Yi joined expeditions beyond the sect's walls—into the low mountains where spirit beasts roamed, where mercenaries lingered, and where danger tested resolve.
It was during one such patrol that the mirror first changed.
They had been sent to investigate a disturbance in the Crimson Leaf Valley. Reports of disappearing caravans, shattered spirit jade, and scattered corpses.
Yao Yi's squad—six in total—approached cautiously. At their head was Senior Disciple Xun Fei, an impatient flame cultivator who had little love for initiates.
"Stay back unless you're ordered forward," Xun Fei grunted. "This isn't a training ground."
But when the ambush struck, it was Yao Yi who moved first.
A screech split the air—then dozens of black-feathered creatures burst from the trees, their bodies malformed, eyes dripping molten light.
Crows—but wrong.
Yao Yi activated the mirror instinctively. A pulse of silver radiated out, forming a translucent shield that deflected the first wave.
"Cover left flank!" Xun Fei shouted.
The squad scattered. Blades sang. Fire roared. Blood splashed the leaves.
One of the creatures lunged for Yao Yi. Its beak stretched open far too wide, revealing a coiled tongue with serrated bone.
Too close.
The mirror moved on its own.
Silver light twisted in the air—and the creature vanished. No explosion. No scream. Just gone.
Yao Yi staggered back, heart racing. Around him, the battle continued, but he barely heard it.
What had the mirror done?
That night, after returning to the sect, he sat by his desk, staring at the mirror. It was calm now, quiet. But something within it had changed.
A ripple of energy. A layer deeper than before.
He placed his hand on its surface.
A whisper.
Not in words, but feeling.
"Feed me memory. I will become what you need."
Yao Yi pulled his hand back, cold sweat on his palms.
Was it speaking to him? Was it… learning?
He didn't sleep that night.
Later that week, Ling Yue appeared again—this time during a sunrise drill.
She didn't speak at first. Simply walked beside him as they jogged the perimeter trail.
Then, without turning her head, she said, "The mirror showed you something, didn't it?"
He nodded.
"It absorbed one of the crows. Didn't kill it. Just… erased it."
She finally looked at him. Her eyes weren't surprised. Only sad.
"That's the second time."
"Second?"
Ling Yue stopped. The trail was empty around them.
"The first bearer of that mirror… did the same thing. But eventually, it wasn't beasts he erased. It was people."
Yao Yi felt his mouth go dry.
"What happened to him?"
She turned toward the sunrise.
"He chose to forget what he'd done. The mirror remembers, though."
Then she walked away.
That night, Yao Yi stood at the edge of the Bamboo Grove, mirror in hand.
He whispered, "What are you?"
The mirror shimmered faintly.
He didn't expect an answer.
But he felt one.
"Reflection is not truth. It is choice."
Yao Yi closed his eyes.
So be it.
He would choose.
Even if it broke him.