Chapter 7: The Mirror of Truth

  The world did not fade away; it was ripped from beneath his feet.

  Liu Changsheng was no longer a boy standing in a courtyard. He was a speck of dust caught in the throat of a hurricane. The "wind" summoned by the Golden Immortal was not air; it was a vertical river of kinetic force. It wrapped around his small body like a shroud of iron, pinning his arms to his sides and tearing the breath from his lungs.

  He tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed instantly by the roar of the ascent.

  Whoosh.

  The grey tiles of the Liu estate vanished.

  The sprawling city of the Southern Prefecture became a grid of glowing embers.

  The mountains became wrinkles in a vast, dark rug.

  Then, the clouds hit him.

  They were not soft mist. At this speed, they were freezing walls of moisture that slammed against his skin like wet concrete. Ice crystals formed on his eyelashes, sealing his vision shut. The cold bit through his expensive silk robes, sinking its teeth into his marrow.

  I am dying, Changsheng thought. His mind, usually a fortress of arrogant calculation, was besieged by raw, primal panic. The Immortal is killing me. He is throwing me into the void.

  But he didn't die.

  Just as his consciousness began to fray at the edges, the violence stopped.

  The howling wind vanished. The biting cold evaporated, replaced by a warmth that felt like sinking into a bath of liquid sunlight. The crushing gravity lifted.

  Changsheng gasped, his lungs inflating with air that tasted... sweet. It tasted of jasmine, old paper, and starlight.

  He opened his eyes.

  He was kneeling. The ground beneath him was not stone, nor dirt, nor cloud. It was a smooth, translucent surface that looked like polished white jade, yet it swirled with faint mists of chaos deep within its structure.

  He looked up.

  His breath caught in his throat and refused to let go.

  He was not in a palace. A palace implies walls, a roof, limits. This place had none.

  Gigantic pillars of red coral rose into an infinite canopy of nebulas. The "sky" above was not blue or black; it was a shifting tapestry of purple and gold Qi, rotating slowly like the gears of a cosmic clock. Islands of floating rock drifted lazily in the distance, each one crowned with pavilions that shone with a brilliance that hurt the eyes.

  And directly in front of him, seated upon three lotus thrones that seemed to grow out of the void itself, were three figures.

  They were colossal. Not in size—they were human-sized—but in presence. Looking at them felt like standing at the foot of a mountain range that could think.

  The figure on the left wore robes of azure, his beard flowing like a river of ink. He held a Ruyi scepter that pulsed with the rhythm of creation. The Jade Pure One.

  The figure on the right wore robes of white, holding a fly-whisk that seemed to brush away the dust of karma. The Upper Pure One.

  And in the center, an elderly figure with hair like spun silver, holding a fan of feathers, looked down with eyes that contained no pupils, only swirling galaxies. The Great Pure One.

  The Three Pure Ones. The Primordial Origins. The highest deities of the Daoist pantheon, existing even above the administration of the 33 Heavens.

  Changsheng trembled. It wasn't fear. It was the biological reaction of a lower life form being in the proximity of absolute power. His cells were vibrating, trying to synchronize with the immense radiation of Dao emanating from the thrones.

  "So," the central figure, the Great Pure One, spoke.

  His voice did not travel through the air. It bloomed inside Changsheng’s head, a gentle resonance that made his teeth ache.

  " The thief has returned."

  Changsheng scrambled to his feet, then immediately fell back to his knees as the pressure increased. He looked around for the Golden Immortal who had brought him here—the manifestation of the Seven Treasures—but the courtyard was empty save for the Three Sovereigns.

  "I... I am not a thief!" Changsheng stammered, his voice sounding thin and pathetic in the vast hall. "I am Liu Changsheng! I am the victim!"

  The Sovereign on the left, the Jade Pure One, leaned forward. His Ruyi scepter hummed.

  "Liu Changsheng," he repeated the name, tasting it. "A name of long life. A mortal name. Tell me, child, do you know where you are?"

  "I... I am in Heaven," Changsheng whispered.

  "You are in the Daluo Heaven," the Sovereign corrected. "The realm beyond form. The question is, do you know who we are?"

  Changsheng looked at them. He searched his memory—the memory of a three-year-old prodigy who had read every book in the Liu family library.

  "You are Immortals," Changsheng said. "Powerful ones."

  The Three Pure Ones exchanged a glance. It was a look of profound, melancholic amusement.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "He does not know," the Upper Pure One sighed, flicking his fly-whisk. "The dust of the Red Dust world is thick indeed. It has crusted over his eyes completely."

  "He sees the throne, but not the King," the Jade Pure One agreed.

  Changsheng’s brow furrowed. The arrogance of his Human Soul flared up again, override his awe. He hated being mocked. He hated being the one who didn't understand the joke.

  "Why do you speak in riddles?" Changsheng demanded, clenching his small fists. "I was brought here by the Spirit of the Tree! He said I could find the treasures here! If you are the rulers of this place, tell me where my gold is!"

  Silence stretched across the hall.

  Then, the Three Pure Ones laughed.

  It wasn't a cruel laugh. It was the laughter of parents watching a toddler try to lift a boulder. It shook the floating islands in the distance.

  "Gold," the Great Pure One chuckled. "He stands in the presence of the Origin, and he asks for gold. The obsession is truly deep-rooted."

  The Great Pure One raised a finger.

  "Child, you feel a hunger. You feel a loss. You believe something was taken from you."

  "My tree," Changsheng insisted. "My fortune."

  "No," the Sovereign said softly. "You mourn a mirror because you have forgotten your own face."

  The Great Pure One waved his hand.

  From the swirling mists behind the central throne, a massive object drifted forward.

  It was a mirror. But it was not made of bronze or glass. It was an oval of sheer, oscillating quicksilver, framed in ancient celestial script that burned with white fire. It hovered in the air, descending until it hung directly before Changsheng.

  [Artifact: The Heaven-Reflecting Mirror]

  [Rank: Primordial]

  [Function: Dispels all illusions of reincarnation.]

  "Look," the Great Pure One commanded. "Look into the glass, Liu Changsheng. Tell us who you see."

  Changsheng hesitated. The surface of the mirror swirled like a whirlpool. He felt a strange pull, a magnetic attraction that tugged not at his body, but at the very root of his soul.

  He stepped forward. He stood on his tiptoes. He looked in.

  At first, he saw only mist. Grey, swirling fog.

  Then, the fog parted.

  Changsheng expected to see his own face—the round, chubby face of a three-year-old boy with dark eyes.

  He did not.

  Reflected in the quicksilver was a man.

  A man of terrible, majestic beauty. He sat upon a throne of nine golden dragons. He wore robes of the deepest imperial purple, embroidered with the sun, the moon, and the stars. Strings of pearls hung from his diadem, obscuring a face that looked as hard and unyielding as a diamond.

  The man in the mirror was not smiling. He looked bored. He looked tired. He looked at the universe with an expression of supreme, divine apathy.

  Changsheng stared.

  He knew that face.

  He didn't know how he knew it. He had never seen a painting of this man. He had never met him. But the recognition hit him with the force of a physical blow. It was the recognition of looking at your own hand, or feeling your own heartbeat.

  That is me.

  The thought whispered through his mind, alien yet intimate.

  That is the Heaven Soul. That is the part of me I left behind.

  The image in the mirror shifted. The Emperor on the throne sighed. He looked down at a banquet of gods and spoke a single sentence. A sentence that rang in Changsheng’s ears as if he had just spoken it himself.

  "If only I could be reborn as a son of his house to enjoy such an object..."

  CRACK.

  The memory barrier in Changsheng’s mind shattered.

  The headache was blinding. Changsheng grabbed his head, screaming as images flooded his consciousness.

  Five hundred aeons of ruling.

  The taste of the Dragon Liver.

  The sound of the celestial music.

  The boredom. The crushing, endless boredom.

  The envy. The sudden, burning desire for the Heaven-Reaching Tree.

  The decision to split his soul. The Trinity Array. The descent.

  Changsheng gasped, falling backward onto the white jade floor. The mirror hung above him, judging him with his own face.

  "I..." Changsheng choked. "I am..."

  "You are the Jade Emperor," the Great Pure One finished for him. "Or rather, you are the sliver of him that contains his desire."

  The Sovereign leaned forward, his eyes piercing through Changsheng’s small body.

  "You are not a victim, child. You are the architect of your own fall. You sit in the mud and cry because you threw yourself out of the palace."

  Changsheng stared at his hands. They were small. Weak. Mortal.

  A moment ago, he had been full of righteous fury. He was the prodigy who had been robbed. Now?

  He felt hollow. The arrogance drained away, replaced by a terrifying vertigo. He was the King of Heaven, playing in the dirt.

  "The tree..." Changsheng whispered. "The tree died because..."

  "Because the Seven Treasures could not bear the weight of your worship," the Jade Pure One said. "You tried to bow to your own subjects. The karmic backlash crushed the vessel."

  "You destroyed your own treasure with your own greatness," the Upper Pure One added. "Irony is the cruelest law of the Dao."

  Changsheng sat in silence. The truth was a bitter pill, too large to swallow.

  He looked up at the Three Pure Ones. The tears that finally spilled from his eyes were not tears of a tantrum. They were tears of humiliation.

  "How do I go back?" Changsheng asked. His voice was trembling. "I don't want to be Liu Changsheng anymore. I don't want to be weak. I want my throne. I want my power."

  He pointed at the mirror.

  "Put me back!"

  The Great Pure One shook his head slowly.

  "The arrow, once loosed from the bow, cannot turn back in mid-air. You chose this path. You swore a Golden Oath to cultivate from the mortal realm. Until your merit is full, until you have understood the suffering you sought to escape, the Gates of the 33rd Heaven are closed to you."

  "Closed?" Changsheng panicked. "But I am the Emperor! Open them!"

  "Here, you are not the Emperor," the Great Pure One said sternly. The pressure in the room spiked, pressing Changsheng flat against the floor. "Here, you are a soul that has lost its way. You are a greedy child who needs to learn."

  "Learn what?" Changsheng grit his teeth, fighting the pressure. "I know everything! I have ruled for aeons!"

  "You know governance," the Sovereign corrected. "You do not know struggle. You do not know hunger."

  The Great Pure One stood up. He towered over the boy.

  "You wish to return to your true form? You wish to reclaim the Northern Throne and become the Sovereign you were meant to be?"

  "Yes!"

  "Then you cannot stay in the lap of luxury. The Liu estate is too soft. It breeds the very arrogance that blinds you."

  The Sovereign raised his feather fan.

  "There is a mountain in the Eastern Sea. It is called Penglai. It is the place where the raw Qi of the world gathers. It is a place of storms, beasts, and solitude."

  Changsheng’s eyes widened. "No. I want to go home. I want my father!"

  "Your father is a mortal," the Sovereign said coldly. "Your home is the Dao."

  "Who will feed me?" Changsheng cried out, reverting to the scared child. "Who will dress me?"

  The Three Pure Ones smiled. But this time, there was no warmth in it. Only the hard, cold love of a teacher pushing a student off a cliff.

  "You shall eat the green pines when you are hungry," the Great Pure One declared, his voice booming like thunder.

  "You shall drink from the mountain springs when you are thirsty," the Jade Pure One added.

  "And you shall not return to the world of men until you have forged a sword that does not shatter," the Upper Pure One finished.

  The Great Pure One raised a single flower—a Ruyi Flower—in his hand. It glowed with a terrifying, kinetic potential.

  "Go, Liu Changsheng. The vacation is over. The cultivation begins."

  He flicked the flower.

  It struck Changsheng’s forehead with the force of a falling star.

  "NO—!"

  The scream was cut short. The floor of the Daluo Heaven opened up. Gravity, which had been absent, suddenly returned with a vengeance.

  Changsheng fell.

  He fell past the floating islands. He fell past the nebulas. He plummeted through the clouds, screaming as the golden light of heaven receded, replaced by the dark, roaring blue of the mortal ocean below.

  Down.

  Down.

  Down.

  Toward the jagged, mist-covered peaks of Mount Penglai.

  Author’s Note: The Heaven-Reflecting Mirror (Yata-no-Kagami / Haotian Jing)

  The "Mirror of Truth" is a staple in Eastern mythology. It represents the ability to see one's "True Self" (Atman) stripped of all mortal illusions.