The air in the chamber remained heavy with tension. The shattered remnants of the formation still flickered with dying embers, as if unwilling to accept their failure. The elders had fallen silent, their initial skepticism replaced by an uneasy fascination.
The gatekeeper was the first to move. He stepped forward, his gaze locking onto the child in her arms.
"This is no ordinary anomaly," he said, his voice steady but laced with something unreadable. "There is something within him that defies the laws of cultivation itself."
The woman held her son tighter. "Then tell me what it is."
Elder Liang inhaled deeply before speaking. "His body does not contain a dantian, and yet… he is alive. Not only that—he is absorbing qi as if he were a living conduit for it."
One of the younger elders scoffed. "That is nonsense. Even divine beings require a vessel for energy. Without a core, without a meridian channel to guide the flow, his body should have collapsed under the sheer force of qi consumption."
"Yet he is unharmed." Elder Liang's eyes flickered with something close to unease. "Which means his very existence is rewriting the rules we understand."
The elders exchanged uncertain glances.
The woman exhaled slowly. "Then what happens now?"
The gatekeeper studied her for a moment before turning away. "We will conduct another test."
She gritted her teeth. "You said that no one would harm him."
"And we will not." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "But if we do not understand him, others will come searching for him. And not all will be as merciful."
She stiffened. She knew he was right. The moment word spread that a child like him existed, every sect, kingdom, and hidden power would turn their eyes toward him.
Some would seek to claim him.
Others would seek to destroy him.
The gatekeeper gestured toward Elder Liang. "Prepare the Soul Mirror."
The murmurs among the elders grew louder.
"That technique?"
"It has not been used in centuries."
Elder Liang hesitated before nodding. "Very well."
He moved toward the far end of the chamber, where a veil of translucent silk hung from the ceiling. With a flick of his fingers, the silk unraveled, revealing an ancient mirror embedded into the stone wall. Its surface was dark, almost like a void, as if no light could truly touch it.
She instinctively took a step back.
"The Soul Mirror does not measure strength, nor does it reveal potential," Elder Liang explained. "It shows the essence of a being—the true reflection of one's existence."
She clenched her jaw. "And if his reflection is abnormal?"
Elder Liang did not answer.
The gatekeeper motioned toward the mirror. "Place the child before it."
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she did as instructed, stepping forward and gently setting her son down before the dark glass.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the mirror pulsed.
A low hum filled the air. The dark surface began to ripple, as if it were made of liquid rather than solid glass. Slowly, a reflection began to form—
And then the chamber erupted into chaos.
The reflection in the mirror was not that of a normal child.
It was something else entirely.
Where his face should have been, only darkness remained, shifting like smoke. Two crimson eyes burned within the void, their glow so intense that even the elders flinched. The pupils were unlike anything human or divine—deep, spiraling, carrying the weight of something ancient and unfathomable.
The energy in the room trembled. The elders stumbled backward, their faces paling.
"This—this is impossible!"
"What kind of being has eyes like that?!"
"The mirror is rejecting his reflection!"
The woman's breath caught in her throat. She looked down at her son, only to find that his actual eyes were still closed, his face peaceful, unaware of the chaos surrounding him.
But the mirror—
The mirror showed the truth.
The gatekeeper remained still, his expression unreadable. He alone did not recoil, though his gaze remained locked onto the burning eyes in the reflection.
Slowly, he exhaled.
"I see," he murmured.
The woman's fingers tightened into fists. "What do you see?"
The gatekeeper turned to her, his expression finally betraying something close to… reverence?
Or was it fear?
"There have been many powerful beings throughout history," he said slowly. "Gods, demons, celestial beasts. But never… never has there been a being who defies all forms of existence."
Her heart pounded. "What are you saying?"
The gatekeeper let out a small, almost imperceptible breath before speaking the words that would change everything.
"This child… is not meant to exist."
Silence.
A cold dread settled in her stomach.
Not meant to exist?
Her son, her child—was an impossibility?
The elders remained frozen, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
And then—
The mirror shattered.
A deafening crack echoed through the chamber, followed by a burst of black energy that sent everyone reeling. The shattered glass did not fall—it dissolved, vanishing into nothingness, as if the mirror itself had never been there to begin with.
The gatekeeper's eyes darkened.
"This… is only the beginning."
The woman held her son close, her breath shaky but firm.
Whatever he was—whoever he was—she would protect him.
No matter what.
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