The interplay of light and shadow shifted continuously, creating an illusion of being in a surreal, dreamlike realm, as if Meng Qi had stepped into a luminous underwater world. The surrounding darkness was dense and solid, almost tangible, forming into walls.
Upon these walls, countless brilliant rays of light reflected, each illuminating a distinct patch. Every patch displayed a different scene: Meng Qi saw deep seas, grasslands, towering mountains, vast starry skies, galaxies, nebulae, star rivers, golden crows, jade rabbits, the round heavens and square earth, desolate wastelands, underwater worlds, Earth and its moon, flying saucers, and spacecraft—an endless variety, as though countless doors the size of fingernails had been forged into the walls of the universe.
The scenes within these doors continuously transformed, seemingly infinite.
Meng Qi gazed in awe, vaguely understanding their origin. The inner world he had constructed, his own worldview, seemed to explain these visions. The multiverse, fragments of cosmic light, formed myriad worlds beneath the nine heavens. Each world could be “shared,” and what he now witnessed were mere projections of these myriad realms!
This wondrous place must surely be connected to the Immortal Realm?
Following the radiant light, Meng Qi saw an ancient mirror, weathered and ornate, with a unique pattern. Its surface was black and reflected nothing.
Light emerged from the void, striking the mirror and strangely reflecting in all directions—as though the mirror itself were an illusion, something that could be penetrated. The beams reflected onto the solidified void, manifesting as countless “doors.”
The ancient mirror subtly twisted and floated at the center of the “dream palace,” giving the impression of being both present and absent simultaneously.
“This is the ‘wondrous place,’ seemingly the complete manifestation of the ‘pond’ we saw earlier. If you focus your mind, each ‘door’ will reveal a different ‘you,'” Xiao Ru’s voice was distant, her eyes entranced by the profound cosmic mysteries before her. Despite millennia of study and exploration by the Eternals, the deeper truths and principles hidden within this place remained elusive.
“Seeing different ‘selves,'” Meng Qi murmured, his mind racing. Could it be that what the Eternals were fishing for were the “selves” within these fragments of cosmic light?
As the thought arose, he focused his mind, and the countless doors around him began to shift. Faces formed within.
After a breath, the images sharpened, revealing one familiar visage—Meng Qi from the Earth era!
Being stared at by countless “himselfs” sent a chill down Meng Qi’s spine. He ended the focus, letting the doors return to their original state.
Indeed, only the “himself” before the transmigration?
What truly distinguished a fish from a fisherman? If Xiao Ru and others could be fishermen, why not him?
Puzzled, Meng Qi stepped forward, approaching the ancient mirror. He extended his hand, manifesting a projection of himself, cautiously inching closer, attempting to touch and sense it.
“It’s useless…” Xiao Ru’s voice echoed softly.
Meng Qi was startled but did not stop. His right hand slowly neared the mirror.
The sensation was void-like, passing straight through. Meng Qi frowned slightly—was it not a physical object?
However, the slight reaction from the Tree of Great Dao confirmed its connection to the Immortal Realm.
Xiao Ru smiled bitterly, “If it could be touched or taken, why would we Eternals leave it here for millennia? We’ve tried every method imaginable, yet still couldn’t reveal its true form.”
Meng Qi nodded. Xiao Ru was likely telling the truth. The Eternals had known of this place for ages. If there had been any way, they would have removed the mirror long ago, delving deeper to uncover the secrets of reincarnation.
“Do you know what it is?” Meng Qi asked cautiously.
The patterns on the mirror were too strange, entirely unlike the ancient seal script. He couldn’t decipher them, only feeling the weight of countless ages upon it.
Xiao Ru helplessly shook her head, “No.”
“But this old man knows,” a sudden, chilling voice echoed from nowhere. A familiar figure emerged at the edge of the “dream palace.”
“Master!” Xiao Ru was startled. The figure was none other than Song Bingde, her master, whom she had previously subdued.
Meng Qi extended his hand, blocking her view, his eyes filled with caution. Not only was Song Bingde’s sudden appearance suspicious, but his current appearance alone warranted vigilance.
Song Bingde remained of average height and unremarkable appearance, but his previously sleazy demeanor had transformed into a profound presence. His pupils were blood-red, radiating a chilling cruelty, concealed savagery, and menace—enough to unsettle anyone without uttering a single word.
“You’re not Song Bingde. Which Venerable of the Blood Robe Sect are you?” Meng Qi deduced from subtle hints in the martial arts techniques.
Song Bingde laughed, and the space around him darkened, tinged with red, “You interrupted my ‘reincarnation.’ Don’t you know who I am?”
“Blood Sea Rakshasa!” Meng Qi blurted out, his hackles rising as his caution peaked.
Could Song Bingde actually be a manifestation of the formidable Blood Sea Rakshasa?
He already exuded the aura of a Grandmaster!
Only now did Meng Qi feel the surge of danger. The gap in their true cultivation levels was too vast. Under Blood Sea Rakshasa’s intent, his innate intuition and ability to avoid calamities were suppressed!
Though not his first confrontation with a Law Body, facing a hostile Law Body without external aid was unprecedented for him.
Even if Song Bingde was only a projection, at around Grandmaster level, his experience and realm still far surpassed Meng Qi’s. Unlike the True Martial’s malicious intent, which sought escape, this opponent might prove even more formidable than Xi with his unshaken virtues!
And this was the Southern Wilderness—his true body could arrive at any moment!
Meng Qi’s mind raced as he subtly edged closer to the ancient mirror.
Xiao Ru was initially bewildered, then filled with hatred, gritting her teeth, “No wonder I’ve been raised by you since I gained consciousness!”
Song Bingde sneered coldly, “Old man never leaves loose ends. If I hadn’t discovered this place only at the end, I would’ve eliminated you long ago through our connection. Why bother pretending to be your master and trying to awaken your memories?”
He no longer paid attention to Xiao Ru, his gaze shifting directly to the mirror as he slowly said, “This is the ‘Hao Tian Mirror.'”
“Hao Tian Mirror?” Meng Qi couldn’t help but gasp.
In this world, it was said to be the personal treasure of the Green Emperor!
He faintly sensed blood threads emanating from Blood Sea Rakshasa, forming a spiderweb that enveloped the entire “dream palace.”
Blood Sea Rakshasa narrowed his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips, “The Hao Tian Mirror was born in the ancient Immortal Realm, a treasure used by the Heavenly Emperor to stabilize the world. Unfortunately, he perished at the end of an era, and the mirror shattered, leaving only its residual soul. Later, it was obtained by the Green Emperor, who reforged its body. But before the Green Emperor mysteriously vanished, the mirror shattered again, leaving only this sliver of its essence.”
“Its original power is now unknown. Currently, it can connect with myriad worlds and reveal other selves.”
“Other ‘selves’ within the fragments of cosmic light?” Meng Qi asked, almost involuntarily.
Blood Sea Rakshasa was slightly surprised, “You know quite a bit. No wonder you’ve borne four calamities. That’s about right.”
Seeming pleased to share, he continued, “There are infinite other ‘selves.’ Normally, only when one’s Law Body cultivation reaches a certain level can one sense the myriad worlds and those other selves, stepping onto the legendary path of ‘all selves exist, yet I alone am real.’ With the Hao Tian Mirror, one can attempt this prematurely, though it carries great risks and immense benefits.”
So the true function of the secret technique wasn’t for reincarnation, but for sensing “other selves”? Meng Qi felt a sudden clarity.
Blood Sea Rakshasa was unwilling to elaborate further, shifting topics, “It retains only a sliver of its essence. If your cultivation isn’t sufficient, you can’t even touch it. What’s the use of standing so close?”
Facing a high-level projection, Meng Qi’s expression darkened as he murmured, “You’re stalling for backup, aren’t you?”
“Hmm?” Blood Sea Rakshasa’s lips, red as if freshly sipped with blood, curled into a smile. He appeared relaxed and confident.
“You’re merely a projection at the Seventh Heaven level. You’re concerned that I might possess divine weapons or other treasures, making it difficult to capture me effortlessly. So you keep talking, stalling for time to await reinforcements—who is it? The Venerable Myriads of Insects, or your true self?” Meng Qi’s gaze was piercing.
Xiao Ru broke into a cold sweat.
Blood Sea Rakshasa chuckled softly, “Unfortunately, you realized it too late. Though I may not be able to capture you, with the Blood Demon Formation secretly deployed, I can certainly prevent your escape.”
He was cruel and ruthless, already contemplating ways to torment Meng Qi.
This was the confidence of a Law Body cultivator!
Thump, thump, thump—Xiao Ru’s heart pounded like a drum!
“Not necessarily…” Meng Qi’s lips curled into a slight smile, his tone suddenly light.
In his left hand appeared a small, emerald tree, reaching toward the Hao Tian Mirror!
At the same time, he grew two more arms—one pulling Xiao Ru close, the other tightly gripping the ancient talisman for space rupture!
If I can’t take it, I’ll feed it to the “little tree”!
For the first time, Blood Sea Rakshasa’s expression changed. Blood surged around him, turbulent and raging!
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