Li Zhameng immediately ducked behind Xue Tuzi, his fingers clutching at the hem of Xue Tuzi's sleeve as he pointed his gun shakily in the Sage's direction. Xue Tuzi scowled, giving Li Zhameng's hand a quick, admonishing slap. "Stop that," he scolded, his voice a low hiss. Composing himself, he turned to face the Sage, lowering himself to one knee with a respectful bow.
"We are disciples from Sect Mount Dingbu, sent by our Shizun, Grandmaster Xue Laohu," he declared, his tone steady and reverent. "Our Sect Leader and many disciples have succumbed to an illness brought on by demon snake bites. We come humbly, seeking the Great Sage's aid in obtaining an antidote."
The Sage finally looked up, revealing an incredibly thin, almost skeletal frame beneath his ragged robes. His skin stretched taut over visible ribs, and his long, wispy beard fell down his chest, trailing over the tattered fabric. Deep wrinkles carved valleys into his sunken face, and his eyelids remained closed as he let out a low hum, pondering Xue Tuzi's words. Moments passed in tense silence before he opened his small, beady eyes, fixing Xue Tuzi with a piercing, unyielding glare.
"And if I reject your request?" the Sage rasped, his voice cold and challenging.
Xue Tuzi held his gaze, lifting his chin defiantly. The mole at the bottom corner of his mouth stretched as he smirked, his eyes gleaming with calm determination. "Then the Great Sage leaves me no choice," he replied, his voice carrying a quiet strength.
"A-Tuzi!" Li Zhameng yelped, his eyes widening in alarm. He half-expected Xue Tuzi to draw his weapon, fearing a clash with the powerful old man. But Xue Tuzi only gave him a dry look, pressing a fist gently onto Li Zhameng's head with an amused smirk.
"We'd leave," he said, his tone laced with mock impatience. "Don't tell me you actually thought I'd fight him?"
He continued to ruffle Li Zhameng's hair in a teasing gesture, a subtle reassurance that eased some of the tension in the air. Xue Tuzi understood that this encounter was more than a test of strength—it was a test of their character.
"Ho ho ho…" The Great Sage chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that filled his humble hut. His gnarled fingers combed slowly through his long, tangled beard as he fixed Xue Tuzi with an amused yet calculating gaze. "Grandmaster Xue… now, that's an old acquaintance I haven't heard of in years." His voice was a whisper of nostalgia, mingling with something darker, almost like a hidden test.
After a lingering pause, he continued, "I am willing to provide you with the antidote, but only under one condition…" He rose from his seated position, his frail yet imposing frame shuffling towards a nearby chest drawer. Every step he took echoed, a testament to the silence and isolation of his abode. Reaching into the chest with a hand as bony and withered as tree roots, he carefully drew out a small, polished compact mirror, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Turning to face them, the Sage held up the compact, its silver glinting ominously. "That you show me your true nature," he declared, his tone sharp and piercing as he extended the mirror towards them. His eyes, black and beady, sparkled with a shrewd intelligence, watching for any flicker of hesitation or fear.
"This is the Mirror of Reflection," he explained, his voice now softer, almost reverent. "It allows me to see the true essence of a person's character and intentions. Stand before it, and all that lies within you—your desires, your secrets, even the darkness you hide—will be laid bare."
The compact mirror seemed almost alive, its surface swirling faintly with an otherworldly energy. The compact rested in his hand, its weight far more substantial than its modest size suggested. The silver casing bore intricate, curling patterns of vines and blooming flowers, each petal etched with such precision that it seemed they might unfurl at any moment. Encircling the compact's face were tiny, bulbous beads, giving it a regal air as if it had been plucked from the dressing table of a forgotten empress. In the center, a smooth, unblemished silver oval waited—a blank canvas, yet oddly inviting.
When he opened it, the mirror within was not just any reflection. The glass shimmered with an otherworldly glow, casting a soft, silvery light on the face. When he looked into it, he knew it did more than reveal his own features. He only needed to glance at the persons reflection on the mirror to be able to see what their true nature bore. No deceit could hide, no charm or mask could veil the truth. Those with kind hearts appeared wrapped in a golden aura, their eyes sparkling with warmth. Yet, for the deceitful or cruel, the mirror displayed shadows, dark wisps coiling around them, warning him of hidden dangers and whispered lies.
This was no ordinary compact—it was a glimpse into the souls of those around him.
"Ok!" Li Zhameng agreed immediately, his voice bright with enthusiasm. Xue Tuzi's expression faltered, a flicker of concern clouding his eyes as he clutched the hem of his sleeve. Worry gnawed at him, an instinctive unease that Li Zhameng seemed oblivious to. Li Zhameng, on the other hand, remained cheerful, his mind racing with relief. What an easy request, he thought to himself. All we have to do is look into a mirror. A small, pleased smile played on his lips as he imagined how quickly they could complete this task. But his daydream was interrupted by a slight kick from Xue Tuzi, who scowled at him in disapproval.
"Oh, that's right!" Li Zhameng suddenly exclaimed, the thought dawning on him with a renewed sense of urgency. "We left behind a very injured friend… could it be possible for the Great Sage to lend us some medicinal herbs?" He looked back at Xue Tuzi, a wide, innocent grin lighting up his face, as if he'd found the perfect solution. Xue Tuzi, however, only wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes, his patience visibly thinning.
The Sage observed their exchange in silence, his gaze thoughtful. After a moment, he inclined his head, hands clasped behind his back as he continued to grip the compact mirror. "Hmm… very well," he said, his voice low and measured. "Take me to this injured friend of yours."
With a nod, Li Zhameng quickly led the way, his pace lively as they guided the Sage out of the hut, Xue Tuzi trailing behind with a wary expression. As they walked, the Sage's eyes slid over to Xue Tuzi, narrowing with keen perception. He raised a thin, bony finger, pointing directly at him. "You…" he murmured, his tone suddenly sharper. "You carry a demonic aura. It seeps from your very being."
Xue Tuzi's face tightened, as he quickly turned his gaze away, his jaw clenched as if trying to hide something. Sensing the tension, Li Zhameng leapt to his defense, his hands waving wildly in an attempt to deflect the accusation. "Ehh, about that… our injured friend is, um… a demon," he stammered, a nervous laugh escaping him. "He lent A-Tuzi some of his demonic energy after a battle."
"Lent" was a generous way of putting it, Xue Tuzi thought bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he shot a glare at Li Zhameng's back. The memory surfaced, sharp and unpleasant—that demon scum, Shudu, had practically forced it on him, emptying the contents of his stomach, laced with acidic, dark energy, directly into his mouth. The foul taste, the burn, the uncontrollable surge of power—it was a nauseating memory that made Xue Tuzi shudder even now.
But Li Zhameng remained oblivious to Xue Tuzi's disgust, a nervous smile plastered on his face as he tried to keep things light, blissfully unaware of the intense glare that Xue Tuzi was drilling into his back, filled with a thousand unspoken words.
They arrived at the mouth of the cave, where Shudu had managed to drag his battered body onto a nearby rock, leaning heavily against it as he struggled for breath. His face was pale, and beads of sweat traced lines down his dirt-streaked skin.
"Shudu Gongzi, you live!" Li Zhameng exclaimed with a cheerfulness that seemed almost out of place in the dark, damp cave. He crouched down beside Shudu, lighting a torch, casting a warm glow over their weary faces.
Shudu's response was far from cheerful. "Hmph," he spat, the words punctuated by a mouthful of blood that splattered onto the rock at his feet. A harsh cough wracked his body, making his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were defiant, but his body betrayed the extent of his injuries.
The Sage watched this display with a calm, measured gaze, stroking his long beard as he approached Shudu with slow, deliberate steps. He knelt beside him, extending a skeletal hand to take Shudu's pulse. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and his expression softened with a faint hint of compassion.
"Internal wounds will take time to heal," the Sage murmured, his tone matter-of-fact. "External wounds, however, I have remedies for. Your demonic qi is weakened but still flowing; a few days of rest shall restore you."
Shudu pulled his hand back, a grunt of irritation escaping him. "I could've told you that," he muttered, his glare smoldering with irritation. He winced as he shifted, clutching his side where the pain radiated sharply.
The Sage stood, clasping his hands behind his back, the compact mirror glinting ominously between his fingers. "However… you too will need to look into the mirror," he declared, his voice low and unyielding. "I must see your true intentions before I can consider handing over the antidote."
"Huh…" Shudu mumbled, blinking in confusion, clearly not grasping the situation. Before he could speak, Li Zhameng jumped in to explain, "He's not a disciple at Sect Mount Dingbu, he's—"
"He's just a pest who won't go away," Xue Tuzi interjected sharply, cutting Li Zhameng off with a pointed glare. He directed a disdainful look at Shudu before turning back to the Sage. "Meng Meng and I should suffice for the mirror test."
The Sage raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Xue Tuzi and Shudu with shrewd appraisal. "Hmmm… you call him a pest, yet it is his demonic qi that now courses through your veins."
"Against my own will, yes," Xue Tuzi replied, his tone defensive, his jaw tightening as he remembered the forced transfer of energy.
The Sage tilted his head, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Hmmm… you have traveled together, fought side by side, and even your Shixiong has referred to him as a friend. Does that not signify that you are all brothers of the same pack? Whether official or not, the bond exists. Therefore, I must test the virtue of all three of you."
His words hung heavy in the air, filling the cave with a sense of finality. Shudu looked away, feigning indifference, though his expression betrayed a flicker of something unreadable. Xue Tuzi clenched his fists, fighting the urge to argue, while Li Zhameng remained uncharacteristically quiet, his face contemplative as he glanced between the two.
The Sage slowly pulled out the silver compact, his fingers brushing over its intricate engravings, and pointed it at Li Zhameng, gesturing for him to step forward. The lighthearted cheer Li Zhameng had shown moments earlier faded as a wave of anxiety swept over him. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing, and took a hesitant step toward the Sage, his hands suddenly cold and clammy.
With a deliberate flick, the Sage opened the compact. One side of the mirror appeared entirely ordinary, reflecting the room's dim surroundings and Li Zhameng's slightly pale face. But on the other side was something far more mysterious—a swirling brilliance of iridescent colors, like liquid silver mixed with stardust, shifting and churning with an energy that felt almost alive. This side, the Sage had explained, would reveal the true essence of a person's character, laying bare their innermost self.
Li Zhameng peered nervously into the mirror. At first, it reflected only his familiar face: his boyish, handsome features, framed by his dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, with a playful swoop of bangs falling across one his forehead. His bright green and golden eyes shone with a hint of his usual mischief, and a faint scar at the corner of his lip added a touch of rugged charm. The sight comforted him slightly—there was nothing sinister, nothing angelic, just his ordinary self staring back.
The Sage narrowed his eyes, stroking the strands of his beard in deep thought as he examined the compact. "Hmmm… how strange," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the mirror as if expecting it to reveal something hidden. Then, with a purposeful stride, he turned his attention to Xue Tuzi, who stood rigidly, his hands clenched into tight fists, a mixture of apprehension and defiance flashing across his face.
"You," the Sage commanded, motioning him forward. "Step up."
Xue Tuzi swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as he reluctantly moved closer. A few loose strands of his long, chestnut hair clung to his full lips, he gently brushed them aside, his fingertips grazing the small mole at the corner of his mouth. His big, dark eyes, usually so calm, were now filled with unease as he stared into the mirror, bracing himself for whatever truth it might unveil.
The reflection showed Xue Tuzi's soft, delicate features—his round, full lips and his pale, smooth skin, lending him an almost ethereal quality. His long hair, streaked with shimmering pink from the needle threads he used in his craft, cascaded down his back, framing his face with a gentle elegance. His bangs curved slightly, softening his expression and giving him a gentle, almost vulnerable look.
But on the other side of the mirror, the iridescent brilliance twisted, and slowly, a shadow began to emerge, dark and unsettling. A figure took shape, the other side of an otherwise docile looking Xue Tuzi was an aroused wanton. He was reflected as enjoying being penetrated by a dark figure. His face was completely flushed, his misty eyes retained tears of pleasure, as he panted willfully. It was as though the mirror had reached into the depths of his soul and brought forth the parts of him he kept tightly hidden.
Xue Tuzi's breath caught, his fists trembling as he beheld this embarrassing, shameful version of himself. He gasped, his face flushing a deep crimson as he wrenched his gaze away from the mirror, his stomach twisting with shame and disbelief. What he had seen—a glimpse of himself capable of such disgraceful acts—left a bitter taste in his mouth, something he could scarcely bear to acknowledge. The Sage's small, beady eyes widened slightly, betraying a hint of surprise. He cleared his throat, coughing into his hand as he composed himself, though a flicker of unease danced across his usually serene expression.
Without another word, the Sage turned his attention to Shudu, who stood watching the exchange with a frown, his jaw clenched. He looked down at the compact mirror, the shifting iridescent swirl within it casting an eerie glow over his features. Reluctance weighed heavily on his broad shoulders, but he knew he had no choice.
At first, the mirror reflected only Shudu's physical form: a tall, imposing figure with a chiseled jawline, his skin marked with faint scars from battles past. His piercing red eye glowed while the other was dark and unwavering, radiating strength and determination, his muscular, broad shoulders added to the aura of a man who had faced countless hardships and emerged unbroken. There was a raw, unyielding power in his gaze, a sense of iron-willed resolve that few could match.
But then, as he continued to stare into the swirling colors, his reflection began to shift and warp, as though some dark force had seeped into the glass. His once-handsome features twisted, growing monstrous. One side of his face clung desperately to its humanity, his tanned skin pulled tight and flushed with strain, his jaw clenched in a valiant effort to hold onto what was left of himself. But the other half had succumbed to a grotesque transformation, a monstrous insectoid mask grafted hideously onto his flesh. The hard, chitinous shell jutted out from his skin, uneven and cracked, the edges merging in a sickening seam where the human and inhuman collided. At the center of this horrific fusion, a third eye bulged from his forehead, its gaze erratic and unnerving, darting back and forth with a wild, feverish intensity, as if possessed by a consciousness of its own.
A violet, translucent substance oozed from the seam where the human flesh met the insectoid shell, part organic pus, part otherworldly fluid. It dripped sluggishly down his face, pooling in viscous rivulets that accentuated the stark divide between his humanity and the invasive horror taking over him. The sickly fluid contrasted sharply against his tan skin, casting him in a twisted light that seemed both fragile and monstrous, as if the essence of some alien parasite had broken through his defenses to lay claim to his body.
This mutation was no natural evolution; it was an abomination, a brutal manifestation of inner turmoil given grotesque form. The face that had once held a semblance of pride and resilience was now fractured, caught between the civilized and the primal, between man and insect. It was an invasion, a silent battle scarring his very essence, as though something dark and ancient had clawed its way up from the depths of his soul and left him stranded at the edge of humanity, teetering between what he once was and something unspeakably alien.
Shudu slapped the mirror away with a force that echoed through the cave, his hand trembling from the impact. His chest heaved as he clutched his face, fingers digging into his skin as though he could tear away the monstrous reflection he'd just seen. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, their usual sharpness drowned in a storm of rage and fear. His breaths came out in jagged gasps, each one trembling with barely-contained fury. His whole body tensed, muscles coiled tightly as if he were ready to lash out at the next thing that dared to move. The anger that radiated from him was raw, seething, as if it might scorch the air around him. But behind that anger, buried deep in his shaking gaze, was a flash of vulnerability—a haunted look, a glimpse of the pain that lay beneath his hardened exterior, brought to the surface by the horrific vision of his own true form.
Blah Blah Blah:
Meet Xiao Mei, assistant to the author. Her duties include (but are not limited to): constant nagging, trips to the corner store to buy cigarettes, making coffee strong enough to wake the dead, and ensuring the author is up at dawn to cram in some writing and editing. She's a force of efficiency and blunt sarcasm, rarely missing a beat or a deadline.
Dressed in a sleek, all-black suit paired with a crisp white button-up and black tie, Xiao Mei's look is sharp and effortlessly intimidating, further accentuated by her combat boots. Her hair falls loosely around her shoulders, with straight bangs that frame her face and a touch of makeup that highlights her fierce gaze.