The spiral staircase closed behind them with a soft rumble, sealing Xiao Fan and Lin Yue within the sacred heart of the Thousand Spirit Plateau. But even in that silence, the air seemed alive—charged with a presence neither hostile nor welcoming. Just... waiting.
They stood before a new archway that hadn't been there a moment ago. Intricate carvings danced along its edges, depicting scenes of cosmic war—dragons clashing with starships, cultivators soaring through galactic storms, and veiled figures casting shadows across constellations. A plaque above the arch read: "Enter only if your will is iron and your soul unclouded."
Lin Yue glanced at Xiao Fan. "Still feel like turning the willow into a fan?"
He smirked. "Only if the vault demands it."
They stepped through the arch.
The Whispering Vault was not a single room, but a shifting labyrinth of light and shadow. Walls made of starlight pulsed with memories not their own. Whispers echoed all around—some familiar, others utterly alien.
"This place is alive," Lin Yue whispered, her fingers brushing the air, as if touching thoughts themselves.
Xiao Fan's eyes narrowed. "It's not just a vault. It's a prison."
In the distance, a figure awaited.
Clad in obsidian robes etched with runes older than any known language, the being hovered inches above the ground. Its face was veiled by a mask shaped like a split moon—half radiant, half eclipsed. When it spoke, the voices of many echoed from its mouth.
"You carry the Heart Scroll. But it is not enough."
Xiao Fan stood firm. "Then what do you want?"
"A final rite. Not for your strength, nor your virtue—but for your identity."
Before Xiao Fan could reply, the world shattered.
They were pulled apart—Lin Yue vanished in a swirl of mist—and Xiao Fan found himself in a mirror realm of infinite versions of himself.
Some stood proud in royal robes, cloaked in glory. Others bore scars, broken blades, and eyes heavy with regret. One version stood drenched in blood, surrounded by corpses. Another sat beneath a tree, cradling a child.
A voice rang through the void. "Which of these are you?"
Xiao Fan didn't answer.
Each mirror-Xiao Fan stepped forward, speaking in unison:
"You are the Emperor's heir, the genius of the Cardinal Lineage, the wielder of forbidden arts, the one loved... and the one feared. So which are you, truly?"
Xiao Fan's voice was steady. "I am all of them. And none."
He stepped forward, his hand piercing through one of the mirrors. It didn't break—but rippled like water.
He pulled himself out.
Not a reflection, not a version—but the truest echo of his soul. A boy with tired eyes, a quiet resolve, and the weight of galaxies on his shoulders.
The veiled figure reappeared. "You have chosen."
Xiao Fan's double vanished into him, the fusion smooth, like returning home.
The realm crumbled. Lin Yue was beside him again, dazed but unharmed.
The masked guardian bowed. "You have passed the Rite of Self. The Whispering Vault recognizes you, bearer of the Heart Scroll, heir to balance and truth."
A hidden wall parted to reveal a chamber glowing with a soft, eternal light. At its center floated a small crystal cube, pulsing with golden threads of energy. Within it, a sigil spun slowly—the Eternal Slap, the forbidden technique said to defy gods and fate alike.
Xiao Fan approached and placed the Heart Scroll before the cube.
The crystal shattered like mist, and the sigil entered his palm.
A sudden surge—his veins lit up, his body trembled, and his spirit howled through the stars. Visions of ancient masters, cosmic beings, and echoes of a slap that tore through time surged through him.
Then it was over.
Xiao Fan stood, calm and composed, his hand still glowing faintly.
Lin Yue stepped forward, eyes wide. "What... what now?"
He looked at his palm, then at the heavens beyond the stone ceiling.
"Now," Xiao Fan said softly, "I make the heavens remember the name they tried to forget."