Chapter 1
The final stage of the Immortal Trials was to pass through the Celestial Secrets Mirror.
The mirror was one of the Changheng Sect’s treasures. Those with talent could glimpse their own future inside it, and the greater their talent, the more they could see.
Most people saw only a fleeting instant, too brief even to process. That was why the Changheng Sect did not fear anyone learning too much of Heaven’s secrets.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself bound.
I was chained to a colossal, milky-white pillar that pierced the heavens, my white robes stained with blood. Immortal-Binding Chains wrapped around my body, while four Soul-Extinguishing Nails pinned each of my hands and feet.
Below the pillar, cultivators in Changheng Sect uniforms glared at me with righteous hatred.
They called me a “demoness.”
I heard myself say, “No, I’m not. I drew on the Demon Sovereign’s blood only to save Master. Master…”
I could not make out my own expression, but I knew the woman I saw in the mirror was not lying.
She must have suffered a terrible injustice.
As my words fell, a man appeared on the horizon, dressed in white with ink-black hair and wreathed in immortal grace. It was Shen Du.
So Shen Du was my master.
He had always been stern and upright. Surely he would clear my name.
Just as I began to relax, a sword radiating bitter cold suddenly punched through my chest.
My reflection stared in disbelief. So did I.
“Master,” I heard myself say in shock. “You know why I did it.”
Shen Du merely lowered his eyes, neither sorrowful nor moved. “This was not my wish. But Ah Yuan cannot cultivate immortal bones, and she needs your inner core. Don’t worry. Once…”
His remaining words cut off abruptly.
The Celestial Secrets Mirror threw me out.
I returned to the Immortal Trials plaza amid a swell of whispers.
“She’s out.”
“She lasted nearly eight minutes inside the mirror. That child has boundless potential.”
“Look! It’s Immortal Shen Du. Is he finally going to take a disciple?”
The clamor vanished in an instant. Then a man slowly materialized in the empty sky.
Clad in white, with ink-black hair and a cold, peerless bearing, he was Shen Du—the man who accepted only one disciple every fifty years.
As Shen Du appeared, the elders of the Changheng Sect’s other peaks revealed themselves one after another.
The man reclining at the far left yawned and, incredibly, still had the leisure to drink.
I slowly raised my eyes and met Shen Du’s gaze.
The elder overseeing the selection said with satisfaction, “You practice the sword, and no one has matched Shen Du’s swordsmanship in a hundred years. He is the best possible master for you.”
Suspended in midair, Shen Du slowly removed the jade pendant at his waist.
But in the next moment, both my knees bent.
I knelt before Immortal Li Yuan, who was still drinking.
“Master, please accept me as your disciple.”