Yanwei's fingers curled around the mirror, and as soon as he made contact, a wave of recognition hit him.
Interesting.
So this was the reason they were fighting. Not for some trivial treasure or artifact—but for something far more dangerous. A rank 6 item, one that was not a weapon of offense or defense. It was something far more rare, far more valuable.
He studied the mirror, a slow grin spreading across his face. A tool to access a hidden market. A market where you could trade with your spiritual or divine sense, and your identity would remain completely concealed. Whether you were buying information, selling rare items, or acquiring resources for cultivation, you could do it all without fear of being traced. No one would ever know who you were, who you were dealing with, or even what was being traded.
That genius was definitely the one who crafted this. Only someone of that caliber could have made something so unique.
Yanwei's smirk faded for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. His thoughts sharpened.
How did those idiots even know about this mirror?
The question lingered in his mind, unsettling in its simplicity. This place is barren. These sects were struggling just to survive, let alone cultivate at the highest levels. And yet here they were, fighting over something so rare, so valuable—something far beyond their reach.
Inheritance?
He quickly dismissed the thought. Impossible. No rank 6 cultivator had ever emerged from any of these sects. The inheritance of such a treasure would be reserved for only the most powerful, most influential sects—ones far beyond this remote region.
Then… did they rob it?
Yanwei's lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile. Not entirely impossible, I suppose. It could've been stolen. But anyone daring enough to take it would be risking everything.
The Council of Eternal Mandate would never allow such a precious item to fall into the wrong hands. Whoever had taken it would surely face their wrath. The Council was known for their ruthless enforcement of their authority. No one could escape unscathed if they were caught with such a treasure.
Yanwei's smirk returned, but now there was something else in his gaze—an almost predatory hunger. If they did steal it, they're idiots. The Council of Eternal Mandate wouldn't let it slide. Not for anything.
He turned the mirror over in his hand, feeling the weight of its power, the potential it offered. Whatever their methods were, it doesn't matter. This is mine now.
Yanwei's grin lingered a moment longer, then, with a dismissive flick of his wrist, he tucked the mirror into the folds of his ring. It was too valuable to leave lying around, and there was no telling what other eyes might be watching.
He turned his attention to the second item.
A thin book, its cover worn and unassuming, lay half-hidden beneath the mirror. The book's edges were frayed, its pages yellowed with age, but there was an undeniable presence about it. The kind of presence that made the air feel denser, heavier.
Yanwei raised an eyebrow as he reached for it. What's this? His fingers grazed the cover, feeling the strange hum of energy that pulsed through it.
A cultivation manual? He wondered briefly, but quickly dismissed it. No, it was far too thin for that. If it had been an ancient method of cultivation, surely it would have been more… substantial. This was something else.
His black eyes narrowed as he flipped the cover open, inspecting the first few pages.
He could feel the weight of its purpose. There was something undeniably important about this book, but what?
Yanwei opened the book, his fingers grazing the ancient, worn pages.
The moment he began to read, something stirred inside him—a sharp sense of recognition. This wasn't just any text. This was a technique.
He felt it in his bones, the undeniable weight of it. But that was the only thing that made sense.
The words on the pages? They were familiar, but they twisted in his mind. He could read them, each character clear, each sentence intact—but the meaning? The meaning slipped through his fingers like sand. There was something wrong, something that kept the true essence of the text hidden just out of reach.
Frustration began to bubble up, gnawing at him, but he refused to let it show. Yanwei was no stranger to difficulty. He had faced countless challenges, endured the harshest trials, and overcome them all. But this?
This was something he had never encountered.
He turned the page, his eyes scanning more lines of text that refused to make sense. His brow furrowed deeper with every sentence, the confusion growing. The words on the page were too foreign, too distant from anything he had ever studied. It was as though he was staring at a puzzle, one whose pieces were meant to fit but stubbornly refused to align.
Why can't I understand this?
The question rattled in his mind. His Rank 9 knowledge had served him through countless obstacles, but now it felt… insufficient. How could this be? How could something like this exist that even he couldn't decode?
The frustration was suffocating, making his pulse quicken. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, a prickling heat spreading through his chest. His hands trembled, but he refused to stop. He wouldn't let it win. He couldn't.
He needed to understand.
His fingers flipped through the pages feverishly, the sense of growing pressure tightening around him with each turn. Each word became a barrier. Each page a test he could not pass. And yet, despite it all, there was something undeniably compelling about it. A power hummed beneath the surface, a vibration that tugged at his very soul. It was like something calling out to him, a whisper just beyond his comprehension.
But the deeper he went, the more the heat in his chest swelled. The words weren't just foreign anymore. They felt like they were fighting him. Resisting him. A technique of this caliber should have been within his grasp—but it wasn't. And the struggle was maddening.
By the time he reached the last page, his breathing was shallow. His pulse hammered in his ears. He could feel the sweat dripping down his neck, his body burning as if the technique itself was testing him, pulling at his very essence.
For a fleeting moment, his mind flickered with doubt. What if he could never understand it? What if he wasn't enough, even with all his strength, all his knowledge?
But then, as he scanned the final lines, something changed.
It wasn't understanding—not fully. But there was a shift. A faint, lingering recognition of something—of the technique's purpose, its power, its intent. It wasn't clarity, but it was enough. Enough to know that whatever this was, it was dangerous. Dangerous beyond measure.
He closed the book with a sharp snap, his hands gripping the edges tightly as though he could hold onto the very essence of what he had just uncovered.
The silence in the room felt oppressive, suffocating, as Yanwei sat there, his chest heaving.
And then, a loud, almost involuntary gulp echoed through the air. He swallowed down the knot in his throat, feeling the weight of the realization settle deep in his gut.
It wasn't just a technique. It was something else. And he was going to unravel it, no matter what it took.