The Mirror Legacy

Li Changhu barely had time to react as the youth lifted the leather around his waist, revealing a knife that glinted ominously with a cold light.

The youth’s eyes, fierce and sharp like a wild beast’s, were fixed unblinkingly on Li Changhu with alarming intensity.

His knife moved with lightning speed, aiming straight for Li Changhu’s throat. Li Changhu barely had time to recoil in shock, his hands moving in a desperate attempt to block the attack.

He was moving at the speed of lightning!

He had honed this particular stabbing motion for over twenty-two years and practiced on countless haystacks; it was fueled by years of repressed hatred.

The knife, gleaming like a bolt of silver lightning, nimbly evaded Li Changhu’s defensive arms and impaled his throat.

Li Changhu could only utter a few agonized groans before collapsing to the ground. His vision blurred, and the sounds of the surrounding screams and shouts of anger filled the air.

“BASTARD!” Tian Shoushui, standing behind Li Changhu, bellowed in rage and disbelief.

Tian Shoushui, obscured by the crowd due to his shorter stature, had not fully grasped the unfolding situation until he saw Li Changhu collapse.

Tian Shoushui lunged to grab the youth, his eyes burning with rage and the veins at his temples throbbing.

However, the youth, though successful in his attack, abandoned the knife and used the ensuing chaos to roll away from Tian Shoushui’s grasp. He moved with the agility of a deer, swiftly disappearing into the mass of refugees.

Tian Shoushui pursued, but the refugees scattered in panic, giving the youth just enough time to slip into the nearby reeds and vanish.

“DAMN IT!”

Determined, Tian Shoushui plunged into the reeds without a second glance, leaving behind the refugees huddled together in fear.

“Goddamn it! He brought disaster upon us!”

The middle-aged man who was previously speaking for the refugees was now cornered by the villagers.

“I have nothing to do with this! I don’t know that young man! He just came with us!” he wailed, but his protests were drowned out by the commotion.

“SHUT UP!” Liu Linfeng screamed, his face a mixture of rage and shock.

He gritted his teeth and kneeled down to support Li Changhu, who lay motionless and bleeding on the ground. Liu Linfeng struggled to contain his anger, glaring fiercely at the middle-aged man.

Seeing his nephew in such a state, Liu Linfeng’s mind raced. How would he explain this to his younger sister? To Li Mutian? His nephew had died right before his eyes!

Ren Ping’an sat on the ground, overwhelmed by grief. His daughter had married Li Changhu and was expecting their child. Now, he had to witness Li Changhu—the child he had watched grow up, dying right before his very eyes.

Panic enveloped the crowd. On the ground, Li Changhu lay with his eyes open, staring at the sky and feeling the warmth of his blood as it flowed from his chest. His consciousness started to fade.

I feel bad for Xiangping... My funeral will have to come before his wedding, Li Changhu thought despairingly as the pain and suffocation enveloped him, pulling him into an abyss of darkness.

In the midst of the turmoil, a faint silver light unseen by all rose from his dantian. It spiraled upward like a swallow soaring into the sky, circling for a moment before flying toward the Li Family’s backyard.

Not far from the scene, Old Xu stood trembling, witnessing the youth plunging the knife into Li Changhu’s throat, the blade protruding slightly from the back of his neck. A rush of blood surged to his head, blackness clouding his vision as he nearly collapsed.

“How terribly unfortunate!” Tears streamed down his aged face as he held the string of grass crickets he had intended to give to Li Changhu and clutched his chest in anguish.

“That bastard...” Gasping for breath, Old Xu wiped his tears and started running toward the back mountain, muttering to himself, “I’ve lived through too much—the death of my wife, the downfall of the main family. I’ve dealt with scoundrels far worse than you. Just you wait! This old man will make sure you pay for this!”

————

At the ancestral hall in the Li Residence, Lu Jiangxian sighed quietly.

He had awoken the instant Li Changhu was assassinated, but he was too far away to do anything about it. All he could do was watch as the tragedy unfolded.

As he observed the silver light fluttering around the mirror like a butterfly, he knew that with just a thought, this talisman seed could transform into pure essence, nourishing his divine soul.

However, since Li Changhu had not reached the Profound Scenery stage yet, the talisman seed would not do him much good.

With a sigh, Lu Jiangxian reversed his immortal technique. Using the “Profound Pearl Sacrificial Spirit Art”, he catalyzed the spiritual sense within the talisman seed. A stream of mana, extracted from the seed, manifested in the courtyard and extended toward the Li Family members.

Li Mutian had been restless, taking over two hours to drift into a fitful sleep. But then, he saw moonlight pouring through the windows and doorways, illuminating the room as if it were daylight. There, standing quietly by his bedside, was his eldest son, Li Changhu.

“What happened?” Li Mutian asked hoarsely.

Li Changhu remained silent, his gaze intently fixed on Li Mutian’s face, as if committing every detail to memory.

Li Mutian coughed harshly and asked with a furrowed brow, “What is it, Changhu?”

Li Changhu then leaned down, bowing deeply to his father.

“Take care, Father...” he said, his voice choked with emotion.

As he spoke, his figure began to disperse, fading like grains of sand in the wind. The luminous moonlight slowly dimmed, and the room, once bright as day, returned to darkness.

Li Mutian, in a state of shock, reached out desperately and shouted uncontrollably, “Speak to me, son! Changhu! Li Changhu!”

He bolted out of bed, gazing out the window in disbelief.

————

“Does cultivation also bring dreams?” Li Chejing, with tears still on his face, awoke in the side house.

He rose and walked outside, where he found Li Tongya seated at the wooden table.

Upon seeing his younger brother, Li Tongya quickly wiped away his tears and forced a smile. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Li Chejing, however, just stared blankly at him and then looked up to ask, “Where’s Big Brother?”

“He was called out this morning by a tenant. Maybe something happened in the fields,” Li Tongya replied, trying to maintain his smile.

Just then, the door opened with a creak. Li Mutian appeared, looking visibly unsettled.

“Tongya! Go get your big brother... No. Never mind, I’ll go myself.”

Quickly slipping on his shoes, Li Mutian hastened to the front yard. As he opened the gate, he was met with a surprising sight.

A large group of villagers had gathered outside, all holding torches and with tears streaming down their faces. At the foot of the stone steps, three people knelt beside something covered by a piece of white fabric.

The sight of Tian Shoushui and Ren Ping’an’s grief-stricken expressions sent a wave of dread through Li Mutian. With shaking hands, he descended the steps, gently pushing past the tearful Liu Linfeng to lift the white fabric.

At the sight underneath, Li Mutian’s vision immediately darkened and he nearly fainted. His brothers, who had followed him out, also looked on with apprehension.

Li Chejing stepped forward, and upon seeing what lay beneath the cloth, he collapsed to his knees, crying out in anguish, “BIG BROTHER!”

He leaned over Li Changhu’s body, checking to see if he was still breathing.

Suddenly, Li Chejing jerked his head up, tears streaming down his face as he looked around at the villagers and demanded in a stern, roaring voice, “WHO DID THIS? WHO?”

His outcry, like the roar of a tiger, startled everyone, causing them to step back in fear.

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