It was night.
Dark clouds covered the moon.
Bai Yuheng arrived outside the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion and quietly observed the disciples guarding the entrance. There were also patrolling disciples circling the area.
She had already learned their shift schedule — midnight, 3 a.m., 5 a.m., noon, 3 p.m., and 7 p.m. Every two hours, the guards changed shifts. During the moments of transition, vigilance was at its weakest. That was when she planned to act — using her “old partner’s” power to slip through the barrier, change her form, and enter the pavilion with the next group of patrolling disciples.
Finding an inconspicuous spot, Bai Yuheng drew upon the golden serpent’s energy within her spiritual core, murmuring softly as her fingers flew through seals. Finally, she whispered a single word — “Break!” — and her form shimmered, transforming into a slender golden snake. Smooth and swift, she slipped through a tiny crack in the barrier.
Once she was inside, the crack sealed itself instantly. Invisible light flickered as an intricate web pattern appeared, reinforcing the barrier anew.
At that moment, the disciples at the back entrance were switching patrols. Bai Yuheng shifted again, transforming into a small, inconspicuous grasshopper that latched onto the hem of one disciple’s robe as they entered the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion.
“Senior Sister Zhang, you’re on duty again tonight?” one disciple asked pleasantly.
A gentle-looking woman nodded. “Yes. Junior Brother Zheng wasn’t feeling well, so I came to take his place.”
“You’re too kind, Senior Sister! It’s so boring guarding here. You can’t talk, you can’t walk around… Don’t you find it dull?”
Zhang Ju smiled faintly. “Enough chit-chat. You all go rest. We’ll take it from here.”
“Then we’ll leave it to you, Senior Sister, Senior Brother!”
After their exchange, the group departed quickly.
Zhang Ju remained standing upright and alert at her post, her gaze sharp and her back straight. Compared to the relaxed guard beside her, her seriousness stood out.
“Zhang Ju, you don’t need to be so tense,” the man beside her said, leaning lazily against the wall. “No one’s managed to break in for a hundred years. Besides, the Emperor and Immortal Pei reinforced the barrier — not even a mosquito could get through. You’ll just tire yourself out for no reason.”
Zhang Ju shook her head with a polite smile. “It’s alright. If you’re tired, rest. I’ll keep watch.”
The man chuckled sheepishly. Seeing how serious she was, he felt a little guilty but ultimately decided his laziness outweighed his shame and continued leaning.
While they talked, Bai Yuheng, already inside, ignored the faint echoes of their conversation and focused her attention upward.
On the third floor, the only thing there was a half-foot-high platform holding a small, square mirror — the Four-Direction Mirror. Nothing else occupied the room.
Bai Yuheng examined the surroundings and noted the faint shimmer of a hidden barrier encircling the mirror. Anyone without deep knowledge of formations wouldn’t even notice it.
This inner barrier was much stronger than the one outside.
So the brat’s gotten good at barrier work, she thought with reluctant approval.
After studying it for a while, she finally found a way to break it.
A faint golden light rippled. The mirror, perfectly square and no larger than a palm, rested atop the pillar. Once, its surface had been smooth and clear, showing the sealed gateways of all imprisoned demons. Now, however, cracks spread across it, and the images within were blurring.
The Four-Direction Mirror was an ancient divine artifact — a tool used to lock away demons and traverse realms. If someone with ill intent shattered it, the seals could be undone, releasing all those imprisoned monsters. The consequences would be disastrous.
Bai Yuheng focused her spirit, channeling the golden serpent’s energy from her wrist. The snake slithered toward the mirror, its head merging into the surface.
Suddenly, a burst of black energy struck, throwing it back. Bai Yuheng flinched as pain shot through her hand and chest.
“So someone has tampered with it,” she muttered grimly.
The serpent coiled around her fingers, dispelling the ache. Bai Yuheng frowned, running through possibilities in her mind.
No one should have been able to touch the mirror — yet anyone could have had reason to.
The Demon and Monster Realms were long past their glory, but if some new dark power had risen there, they might take desperate measures to destroy the Four-Direction Mirror and release ancient evils.
Looks like I’ll have to go down the mountain soon, she thought.
As she pondered, the small golden serpent on her finger stirred restlessly, its red-gold eyes locked on the mirror, which was now exuding faint black mist. It hissed sharply, coiled, and suddenly darted straight into the mirror.
A shriek echoed from within. Bai Yuheng immediately transformed the serpent into glowing golden ropes, lassoed the entity inside, and yanked it out.
A black, three-eyed toad fell heavily to the ground.
“Who are you? Who sent you?” Bai Yuheng demanded coldly, the golden light from her snake binding the creature tightly and suspending it midair.
“Let me go! Let go!” The toad’s three red eyes bulged. “I won’t talk!”
Bai Yuheng narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip.
“Argh! It hurts! I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”
Her lashes lowered as her tone turned icy. “Speak.”
“Loosen it! Please!”
“You’re in no position to bargain,” she replied coldly. With a quick hand seal, she erected a sound barrier around them.
Downstairs, Zhang Ju frowned and glanced up. “Did you hear something?”
The lazy guard shifted, half-asleep. “Hear what?”
“…Nothing.” Zhang Ju stretched her senses outward but detected no disturbance. “Must’ve imagined it.”
Upstairs, the three-eyed toad’s eyes darted nervously. Bound tightly, it could only whimper.
“I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”
Bai Yuheng folded her arms. “I’m listening.”
“It was a man in black! He sensed someone approaching the Four-Direction Mirror and threw me out!”
“Who? Who is this man in black?”
“I don’t know!” the toad croaked, struggling. “He said he’s going to shatter the mirror! That way, he can gather its fragments! He can’t enter Tianyan Sect otherwise!”
Bai Yuheng frowned. Some of that rang true — but not all.
“You don’t believe me!” the toad cried, pointing one warty limb at the mirror now shrouded in black fog. “Look!”
Bai Yuheng’s heart skipped.
The next instant — the Four-Direction Mirror cracked, splitting into several fragments that floated into the air.
Boom!
A deafening explosion shattered the silence of the night.
Damn it!
Bai Yuheng quickly formed seals, trying to draw the fragments back together, but the bound toad suddenly transformed into a black snake, lunging at her.
Her golden serpent intercepted it midair, the two forces tangling violently. Meanwhile, she fought against the rising black mist.
The dark energy had no solid form, yet it pressed around her like a cage. Every attack she launched sank into it uselessly, as if striking cotton.
Outside the pavilion, shouting erupted. Disciples rushed toward the noise, their footsteps thundering.
Bai Yuheng had no choice but to end it quickly. She flipped backward, dodging the black mist, caught one of the mirror fragments in her hand — blood dripped from her palm — and golden light exploded outward.
The blinding flash forced everyone outside to cover their eyes.
The fragments quivered, sensing the familiar energy, and began slowly merging again.
But the black mist pulsed violently, sending out another shockwave that blasted them apart.
BOOM!
Another explosion rocked the entire pavilion. The spreading darkness swept through like a storm, knocking back every disciple who tried to rush in.
The shattered mirror shards streaked across the night sky like meteors, vanishing one by one. Only the fragment gripped tightly in Bai Yuheng’s bleeding hand remained. The other five pieces scattered in all directions.
The black mist, having accomplished its goal, drifted out of the pavilion and dispersed into the darkness.
Bai Yuheng watched it go, her eyes cold. She clenched the fragment tighter, blood seeping between her fingers.
Beside her, the little golden snake had subdued the transformed toad. Bai Yuheng gathered both, concealing her aura as she turned into a small golden snake herself, coiling silently atop the rafters.
“What happened!?”
The Eastern Emperor’s voice thundered through the night before he even appeared.
“The Four-Direction Mirror has been stolen,” said Yuangguang Emperor evenly, though his usually soft tone was now icy.
“Did you catch the thief?” Lingzhen Emperor asked as he arrived. The three of them stood before the damaged pavilion, frowning at the traces of battle.
“First, we must calm the disciples,” Yuanguang said seriously. “The news of the mirror’s theft cannot spread — it would cause panic.”
“I disagree,” said the Eastern Emperor. “Dozens of disciples saw something fly out of the pavilion. Do you think they’ll believe silence?”
“I side with Yuanguang,” Lingzhen said. “Let’s contain the situation first, then notify the other sects for a joint search.”
The Eastern Emperor sighed. “Then what’s the plan?”
“Has Immortal Pei arrived yet?” Yuanguang asked.
Lingzhen shook his head. “I didn’t see him.”
“Send someone to fetch him,” Yuanguang ordered.
“Yes.”
Before the messenger could leave, a deep voice cut through the air. “No need.”
The disciple froze, then bowed. “Immortal Uncle Pei.”
Pei Yuan nodded slightly and entered the pavilion.
“I’ve checked the barrier. There are no signs of it being broken — in fact, it’s been reinforced,” he said immediately. “The mirror shattered from the inside.”
He caught a faint whiff of blood.
“But there were multiple barriers — outer and inner — plus the Eastern Emperor’s hidden seal,” Yuanguang analyzed, frowning as Pei Yuan crouched in the corner. His fingers brushed the floor, coming away stained red. “What is it?”
“Blood,” Pei Yuan said, rubbing the still-wet stain between his fingers.
“Blood? From the guards?” the Eastern Emperor asked urgently.
Yuangguang shook his head. “No. I checked earlier — none of them were injured.”
“Then it must belong to the thief.”
“Perhaps it happened during the explosion,” someone offered.
“Some disciples reported that just before the explosion, they saw a flash of gold — and faintly heard voices, though they thought it was an illusion. The noise only lasted two brief moments.”
The Eastern Emperor nodded. “If the barrier wasn’t breached, then the problem lies within the mirror itself. As for the sounds, light, and mist…”
“…” Yuanguang paused, hiding his true suspicion. “Perhaps it was a residual defensive barrier left by Emperor Hengluan — one that injured the thief.”
In the shadows, a small golden snake trembled, glancing instinctively toward the tall, cold figure among them.
Golden light?
Pei Yuan’s eyelid twitched, his heart tightening painfully.
“Where’s Immortal Pei going?”
“Eh?”
“Why is he leaving so quickly?”
The three emperors exchanged puzzled looks but dismissed it — he’d always been strange. They turned back to handling the aftermath.
Pei Yuan’s steps were unsteady as he descended the stairs.
Just as he reached the bottom, a small golden snake slipped quietly past him in the dark.