The cold light refracted by the mirrors stabbed painfully into Chu Mo's retinas. Three hundred and sixty bronze mirrors formed a circle around him, each reflecting a different version of himself: one knelt upon the Godfall Pavilion altar, pierced through by ten thousand swords; another wore a bronze mask and slaughtered the living beings of the divine region; yet another stood amid the ruins of the Primordial Chaos Realm, cradling Yun Che's corpse. The scenes were so real that when he reached out to touch a mirror, his fingertips came away stained with the blood of his reflection.
"Chu Mo, these mirrors are devouring our spiritual energy!" Yun Che's voice trembled. The token bearing the character "Nine" in her hand suddenly grew scorching hot. The instant its patterns overlapped with the star map on the ground, the three nearest mirrors exploded. What spilled from them was not shards, but viscous silver liquid that became blades the moment it struck the ground, shooting toward the two of them.
The Chaos Sword flew from its sheath on its own, quivering in Chu Mo's palm and leaving afterimages. He discovered that the blades formed from mirror liquid could actually imitate the moves of the Primordial Sword Art. Just as the sword-shadow of the third stance, "Rending the Void," rose, the figure in the opposing mirror simultaneously unleashed the fourth stance, "Star Shattering." So the Mirror Law of the Mirror Abyss Corridor could replicate every technique of those who entered it!
"Yun Che, close your eyes—don't look into them!" Chu Mo swept his sword across the sky full of blades, yet from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a purple-scaled woman hanging high in the air from countless chains in one mirror. Beneath her scales were patterns identical to his Chaos Sword Body—it was clearly a scene from three hundred years ago! He suddenly recalled the memory fragments Wuyin had left behind before her death: every generation of Godfall Pavilion Saintesses had a Sword Master Remnant Soul implanted within them, becoming living sacrifices to sustain the reincarnation cycle.
Yun Che's flexible sword suddenly touched the ground, and icy-blue spiritual energy spread along the star map. When her sword tip traced over the "Nine" pattern on the ground, every mirror began trembling at once, and the reflected scenes started to overlap: the face revealed when the Bronze Masked Figure removed his mask, an arm of liquid law deep within Godfall Island, and a Bronze Coffin engraved with the name "Chu Mo" upon an altar in the Primordial Chaos Realm. In the end, all those images converged into the figure of an old man—the true face of the First Generation Sword Master, one that had never appeared in the incomplete scrolls.
"So... this was Sword Master's true plan!" A hoarse female voice came from the end of the corridor. Chu Mo's blood seemed to freeze solid. The voice was exactly like Zilin's and Wuyin's, carrying the trembling curse marks unique to Godfall Pavilion. The woman who emerged from the mist wore twelve layers of purple scale armor, every scale embedded with the memories of Chaos Sword Body hosts from different eras. Her eyes were two pools of boiling golden blood, reflecting Chu Mo's stunned face.
"I am the eighteenth-generation Saintess of Godfall Pavilion, and also the final Sword Master vessel." The woman raised her hand, and the mirror revealed the corpse of the avatar Chu Mo had seen on Godfall Island. "For thirty thousand years, every host has seen the ending of their own death in the Mirror Abyss Corridor—and you are the first person capable of shattering every mirror."
Yun Che suddenly pressed her token against the nearest mirror. Ripples spread across its surface like water, revealing a blood-red altar behind it. Nine bronze fragments floated at the altar's center, each engraved with a different name of "Chu Mo." On the newest fragment still clung the blood he had left behind on Godfall Island. This was the fate plate the First Generation Sword Master had used to divide his remnant soul!
"Stop her!" the woman roared, and every Chu Mo in the mirrors swung his sword at once. Chu Mo felt countless hands tearing at his soul as voices from himself in different times and spaces rang in his ears. "Surrender. This is the fate of thirty thousand years. Kill Yun Che, and only then can you become the true Sword Master. Look into the mirrors—you have long since become a butcher drenched in blood."
The Chaos Sword suddenly let out an unwilling cry. The golden blood seeping from the cracks in its blade wrote the tenth stance of the Primordial Sword Art in the air—it was the Fate Defying Style he had comprehended when he shattered the pearl on Godfall Island. When the sword tip touched the ground, every mirror cracked apart at once. The woman's scale armor shattered piece by piece, exposing the curse-mark-covered back beneath. Every curse mark corresponded to the name of a dead host.
"You think breaking the mirrors can change fate?" The woman laughed miserably. Her blood-pool eyes suddenly reflected the skies of the Ninth Divine Region. The "future Chu Mo" wearing a bronze mask stood atop Hong Meng Hall, with the heads of twelve Divine Lords strung into a sword tassel. "Thirty thousand years ago, the First Generation Sword Master used his own Chaos Sword Body to seal the Demon God, only to discover that his strength was insufficient to maintain it. So he created perfect vessels like you—and I am the living lock used to monitor every generation of hosts."
Yun Che's fingertips suddenly touched a bronze fragment on the altar, and a memory surged into her like a tidal wave. At the final moment on Godfall Island, Zilin had fused her remnant soul with Chu Mo's blood, opening a rift in the Mirror Abyss Corridor that led to "true history." There was no Godfall Pavilion there, no Chaos Sword Body hosts—only the First Generation Sword Master kneeling before the Demon God's corpse, carving his final words with a broken sword:
"I use my sword body as a prison, trapping the Demon God's remnant soul within reincarnation. Should those of later generations see this stele, remember well—chaos is not a vessel, but the path that cleaves apart every cage."
"Chu Mo, look here!" Yun Che's cry pierced through the chaos. Chu Mo looked up and saw the true Ninth Divine Region reflected in the pool of blood at the altar's center. The nine floating islands were not a divine region at all, but nine portions of the Demon God's seal that the First Generation Sword Master had divided with his Chaos Sword Body. The so-called Divine Lords were merely Sword Master disciples corrupted by the Demon God's remnant soul. The woman suddenly lunged toward the altar, trying to activate the fate plate with her last strength. Chu Mo's Chaos Sword moved faster than his thoughts, its blade stopping before her brow. Reflected in her eyes was the gentle gaze Zilin had shown when she first saw Yun Che three hundred years ago. The remnant souls of the Godfall Pavilion Saintesses had never truly been devoured by the Sword Master Remnant Soul. All along, they had been leaving clues for every host in their own way, clues to break the deadlock.
"Do it, host of the Chaos Sword Body..." The woman's voice was as light as mist. "Kill me, and you can obtain the final fate plate fragment. Go to Hong Meng Hall at the peak of the Ninth Divine Region. The true answer is there."
Chu Mo's hand around the sword hilt trembled. The ground of the Mirror Abyss Corridor suddenly split open, revealing a burning sea of golden fire below—the seal forged from the First Generation Sword Master's own Divine Blood. When Chu Mo's sword pierced the woman's heart, the twelve layers of purple scale armor transformed into streams of light and merged into the Chaos Sword. The cracks along its blade began to reveal star-map-like patterns—the coordinates leading to Hong Meng Hall.
Yun Che picked up the final fragment, engraved with the character "End," then suddenly pointed toward the far end of the corridor. "Chu Mo, look!" The mist there was dispersing, revealing a golden palace floating in the starry sky. The three ancient characters, "Hong Meng Hall," flashed upon its gates with creation-like radiance. Before those gates stood twelve figures clad in armor of different colors, and embedded in each of their chests was a seal identical to the pearl from Godfall Island.
The Chaos Sword's cry was deafening, and Chu Mo felt something awakening within him. The countless versions of himself he had seen in the mirrors now intertwined into a vast net within his Sea of Consciousness. And he stood at the center of that net, holding the sword capable of severing every thread.
"Let's go, Yun Che," Chu Mo said softly. "Whether what lies ahead is the truth of the First Generation Sword Master or the Demon God's scheme, our swords will only cut the path we recognize."
The instant the two stepped out of the Mirror Abyss Corridor, all the mirrors shattered at once. Among the countless Chu Mos reflected within them, only their figures did not fade away. And deep within the broken mirrors, the remnant souls of Zilin and Wuyin looked at each other and smiled. After thirty thousand years of sacrifice, they had finally waited for the one who could make the Chaos Sword Body no longer a vessel, but a true Sword Master.
The bell of Hong Meng Hall suddenly rang. The twelve Divine Lords turned around at once. There was no hostility in their eyes, only the relief of liberation. At the summit of the palace, the "future Chu Mo" wearing the bronze mask slowly removed it, revealing a face identical to Chu Mo's. Only, beneath his left eye ran a sword scar from brow to jaw—the mark of perishing together with the Demon God.
"Welcome to the true divine region." Future Chu Mo's voice bore the weathering of ten thousand years. With a lift of his hand, the gates of Hong Meng Hall burst open. Floating within was the Demon God's core, sealed by the First Generation Sword Master with the Chaos Sword Body—the truth for which all hosts had sacrificed over the past thirty thousand years.
Chu Mo tightly grasped Yun Che's hand, the Chaos Sword burning hot in his palm. He knew that the true battle had only just begun—for Zilin, for Wuyin, for every Chaos Sword Body host who had died in the sacrifices of Godfall Pavilion, and even more so to ensure that the Chaos Sword Body would no longer be a prisoner of fate, but a Sword Sovereign capable of cleaving through every lie.
And this time, his sword would no longer obey the arrangements of any god.
Before you continue