Chapter Fifty-Three: The Mirror of Insight

Chapter Fifty-Three: The Mirror of Worlds

Zhou Ling’er paid no heed to Wu Hong, treating him as if he didn’t exist, and played only with Kun Kun. She kept taking out one after another of the extraordinary Yin-Yang Fruit Kings, as if her supply were endless. Wu Hong couldn’t help but think to himself: clearly, he was not the only one with a Universe Ring—this young lady must have one as well. Yet he was shaken to the core—who was this girl, to possess so many of these rare fruits, able to produce more at Kun Kun’s every whim?

But Kun Kun, the little beast, seemed to have a bottomless stomach. He devoured dozens of fruits in a row, yet his small belly showed not the slightest bulge.

While Wu Hong was still reeling in astonishment, as Zhou Ling’er played with Kun Kun, a sudden crash sounded, and from the calm surface of the lake a towering wave soared as a monstrous fish burst forth. Its scales glimmered like gemstones, its back covered with eyes, though neither of its two heads had even a single eye. The entire creature stretched over a hundred meters long, and its gaping maw snapped toward Wu Hong’s humble wooden boat.

The surging wave threatened to engulf the vessel, for the fish’s appearance was abrupt and menacing. Yet Zhou Ling’er remained utterly unfazed, as if no monster had appeared at all, even as the creature’s monstrous jaws loomed ever closer.

Wu Hong instinctively gathered his true energy into his palms, but then, catching sight of Zhou Ling’er’s calm composure and recalling the boundless power she had shown, he forced himself to remain still, resisting the urge to attack.

Just as the fish’s mouth came within five or six meters of the boat, Zhou Ling’er finally stood up and huffed, “Little fish, don’t spoil my fun. Be careful or I’ll make fish stew out of you!”

Wu Hong nearly choked—such a massive beast, and she called it a little fish? What would she consider a big one?

The creature shuddered at Zhou Ling’er’s words, its maw snapping shut. With a sudden twist of its massive body, it soared over Wu Hong’s boat and crashed back into the lake with a thunderous splash, sending a spray of water dozens of meters high.

Unseen by Wu Hong, Zhou Ling’er let out a quiet sigh of relief but soon resumed her play with Kun Kun.

Wu Hong was dumbstruck, his body trembling. In that brief moment, Zhou Ling’er’s form had radiated an invisible, overwhelming force that struck terror into the heart. His knees buckled of their own accord, as though he were about to kneel before her.

“What’s happening to me? How can I kneel to her? No, I mustn’t!” Wu Hong silently cried out, but his legs barely obeyed his will. His spirit quaked, as though he were a mere mortal confronted by a god, compelled to prostrate himself in awe.

Suddenly, the Great Sun Tathagata’s True Sutra flashed golden in his mind. A warm current swept through his limbs, and Wu Hong’s discomfort faded, his body returning to normal, though cold sweat now drenched him.

“How terrifying! Just a moment ago, the aura this girl released nearly shattered my mind!”

“Oh? You’re rather interesting!” Zhou Ling’er’s eyes sparkled with surprise as she watched Wu Hong’s trembling subside and his composure return, as if she’d discovered something novel.

“Heh… Miss Ling’er, sorry to make a fool of myself,” Wu Hong replied, his face flushing with embarrassment.

In his life, he knelt only to heaven, earth, and his parents, never to another. Even as a beggar, he had never bowed to anyone. Yet just now, but for the Great Sun Tathagata’s True Sutra, he might truly have collapsed and knelt before her.

“Not bad, not bad! Why have you come to this sealed land?” Zhou Ling’er finally nodded, as if appraising a rare item.

Her tone left Wu Hong uneasy, yet he could only accept it; after all, his moment of weakness had been real. He scolded himself—how could he lose his composure so? The girl might be strong, but not enough to terrify him to such an extent!

“What is this ‘sealed land’?” Wu Hong asked. The term meant nothing to him.

Zhou Ling’er frowned at his ignorance but then relented. “Sealed land is what you people call the Celestial Book’s Small World.”

Wu Hong’s mind lit up—clearly, Zhou Ling’er was from another nation. The Grand Qian Dynasty called the Book’s Abode the ‘Small World of the Celestial Book’; foreigners might call it otherwise.

“Oh, I came here seeking a Mirror of Rebirth. I wish to see the truth of something on my mind,” Wu Hong answered honestly, not expecting Zhou Ling’er to reply. Yet at his words, she frowned, as if pondering something.

“You mean the Mirror of Worlds?” Zhou Ling’er mused after some thought, naming the artifact.

To Wu Hong, her words were like a thunderclap. She knew of the Mirror of Rebirth—though by another name, he knew she spoke of the Mirror of Worlds.

He dashed up to her, gripping her slender shoulders in excitement. “You know where this mirror is? Do you? Tell me!”

Zhou Ling’er tried to evade his hands, but for some reason—perhaps because she’d overexerted herself, or her injuries had yet to heal—she failed to dodge his touch.

She had never been so close to any strange man before. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she said, “Would you let go of me, please?”

Her words carried an inexplicable force. Wu Hong felt a chill from head to toe, his excitement instantly cooled, and his hands slipped away from her shoulders.

Seeing his anxious expression, Zhou Ling’er realized his rashness was born of excitement. She softened her tone. “The Mirror of Worlds lies at the southern edge of this small world. Beyond this lake, two hundred li away, in a cave on a small mountain.”

Wu Hong did not ask why she knew what others did not. Hearing the mirror’s exact location, joy bloomed in his heart.

At last, he would know the truth! He would bring the mirror back to the capital and show everyone that he had been wronged, that another was truly responsible for his father’s death.

As he prepared to ask more about the mirror’s powers, another crash sounded. Again, a monstrous fish leapt from the water, identical to the one before.

Zhou Ling’er’s face changed at once. Oh no—she had triggered a taboo in this place by using unnatural power, and now she could summon none at all. What could she do against the little fish now?

“Get lost! Don’t interrupt me!” Wu Hong, still agitated, was furious at the new disturbance.

His palm grew with the wind, expanding to hundreds of meters. With a mighty slap, a golden hand of true energy struck down—the giant fish was smacked back into the water with a boom, sending a torrent of spray soaring into the sky. As the waves crashed down, it seemed as though a fierce rainstorm had erupted from the heavens.

The two of them and Kun Kun were left utterly drenched, with nowhere to shelter, like drowned rats.

Wu Hong glanced at Zhou Ling’er and saw her soaked clothes clinging to her jade-like form, accentuating her exquisite figure. His blood surged, his nose grew hot, and two streams trickled into his mouth.

He wiped at his face in embarrassment—it was a nosebleed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zhou Ling’er, as otherworldly as ever, was completely oblivious to the reason.

“It’s nothing, nothing! Just an old internal ailment,” Wu Hong mumbled, turning away.

Zhou Ling’er, still puzzled, remarked, “Your internal energy is rather unusual—I’ve never seen such martial arts before. What is it called?”

Her question would be taboo among martial artists, but Wu Hong was not truly of their world. Yet he could not reveal the secret of the Great Sun Tathagata’s True Sutra—this was his greatest secret. After a moment’s thought he replied, “The Great Sun Vajra Palm.”

She laughed lightly, “The name is pleasant enough, though its power is lacking.” With that, Zhou Ling’er lost interest and returned to playing with Kun Kun, as if their near-mishap had never happened.

“Kun Kun, why not follow me from now on?” Zhou Ling’er looked hopefully at the little beast.

Kun Kun instantly understood her meaning. With a snap, he tossed aside his half-eaten fruit and scampered to Wu Hong’s side, regarding Zhou Ling’er warily.

Zhou Ling’er was exasperated. She hadn’t expected that, even with so many fruits, she could not win Kun Kun’s loyalty. In her memory, countless rare beasts had vied for her favor, eager for her to take them in.

But suddenly she seemed to recall something, and another fruit appeared in her hand—a blood-red, cherry-like fruit radiating iridescent light, its luster endlessly shifting.

Wu Hong was transfixed—he had no idea what kind of fruit this was, but judging by Zhou Ling’er’s expression, its value must be beyond imagining.

“Little one, if you come with me, this fruit will be yours,” Zhou Ling’er coaxed.

Kun Kun’s eyes fixed on the fruit, and he began to drool uncontrollably, as though faced with some marvelous delicacy. But after glancing at Wu Hong, then at Zhou Ling’er, he shook his head resolutely.

“You…” Zhou Ling’er stamped her foot in frustration, rocking the entire boat.

Wu Hong could not say if he was happy or disappointed. Every action of Zhou Ling’er tugged at his heart, yet he could not bear to part with little Kun Kun.

Seeing Zhou Ling’er’s anger, he was tempted to give Kun Kun to her, but meeting the little beast’s steadfast gaze, he abandoned the thought.