In a cluttered room plastered with talismans, an unknown statue with its eyes covered was being worshipped. An old man in a tattered robe, his hands trembling, was lighting a lamp at the table. Beside him sat a steaming jar of water. The old man coughed incessantly, his eyes burning with rage as he muttered to himself. He crushed animal fluids and mixed them into the jar, in which lay a mirror. Next to it, an intricately carved redwood mirror frame was placed.
A cold wind kept brushing past the doorway. Outside was a courtyard, its ground littered with leaves. I stood by a withered tree, watching the old man inside as he crafted the mirror. This old man was the one Quentin Zeng had bullied in his youth—he nearly died in prison, suffering for half a lifetime over a piece of wood.
In the end, the old man spent a fortune just to make it out of prison alive. He had once been a carpenter, and the redwood used for the mirror frame was a family heirloom. But Quentin Zeng coveted it and seized it by force. Now, the old man was set on revenge. His heart was consumed by hatred—I could feel his fury clearly.
What puzzled me was where the old man had learned such sorcery. A quick glance told me the answer: he was sealing his own blood and hatred for the Zeng family into the Phantom Mirror. The ritual inscribed on the mirror was simple—harbor malice, and whoever gazes into it will have their life force drained, their lifespan gradually shortened.
The sorcery worked on Jade Zeng because her birth had been troubled, and she bore a black mole in her palm. In the Living World, such a mark was said to promise wealth or tragedy—hers brought only misery. Though the origins of this curse were unclear, as an evil art it was weak: it could only trap souls in the Mirror World after death, serving little other purpose. At that moment, I noticed a surge of dark energy gathering nearby, and the old man’s forehead revealed a deathly pallor.
The old man planned to have the owner of a woodshop deliver the mirror as a gift to the Zeng family during Jade Zeng’s Hundred Day Banquet.
More and more ghosts began to gather, drawn by the chilling mediums the old man used. He was about to die, and the ritual was only half complete. That’s why the mirror affected only Jade Zeng. Evildoers, burdened with heavy karmic energy, are shielded from ordinary ghosts in life, though their deaths are miserable. This curse worked the same way.
"So that’s why Zachary Justice wanted me to try another method. Jade Zeng seems to harbor kindness in her heart."
I glanced at a fierce ghost shrouded in black mist beside me. He was ready to kill the old man working his evil sorcery. I pressed a hand to the ghost’s shoulder, and all the other spirits around us saw me.
"Who the hell are you..."
I snapped my fingers softly. Instantly, all the ghosts around me turned to ash. My form materialized—I was dressed in a black robe and slowly walked into the room.
"Who are you?"
The old man stared at me in terror as I approached. I did nothing, just watched him clutch his knife, panic written all over his face.
"I'm here to help you. Your sorcery is flawed—it can't harm Jade Zeng's father, Quentin Zeng."
The old man looked at me, half believing, half doubting. I glanced around, raised my hand, and the mirror flew out of the jar. Pointing with a finger, I looked at the old man. He walked over in a daze and bit his own finger.
"Use the Soul Capture Ritual."
As I spoke, I guided the old man to inscribe runes on the mirror surface, drawing a strange, irregular array. To change Jade Zeng’s fate, I had to start with her father—after all, she harbored kindness. If her parents’ influence was removed early on, her life might not be so tragic.
After all, Jade Zeng was far too unstable as a vessel for Infernal Weapons, and her capacity was too small to contain their growth. That’s why I chose to experiment in the Mirror World—it was safer. If I went to the Living World, the laws of Yin and Yang would interfere. But I could traverse past and future causality, altering fate; the laws of Yin and Yang couldn’t touch me.
"Let’s add a touch of Endbringer’s Power."
As I spoke, I raised a finger. A jet of black lightning crackled into the mirror, which now glowed with a sinister red light, reflecting the old man beside it. I snapped my fingers, and the old man snapped out of his trance, eyes wide in shock as he reached for the ancestral redwood inside the mirror.