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The group continued forward and saw that at the end of the corridor there was a mirror.

A huge mirror, like a floor-to-ceiling window.

Within the mirror, five different faces were reflected.

Wen Yang’s face differed on the left and right sides, the left being male and the right female. The left side was withered and rotting like a corpse, while the right side was transparent and gloomy like a ghost.

Gu Lie had the face of an aged Buddha, grimacing and glaring as though possessed by a mad demon. Yet, tears flowed from his eyes and blood from the corners of his mouth, revealing a hint of compassion amidst the madness.

Long Xiaoqi had the bizarre face of an ancient person, with long whiskers, a protruding mouth, and horns on top of his head. His pupils were golden and vertical, his gaze vacant as he stared straight at his own reflection.

Jiang Liyan was a shapeless mass of skin that concaved and convexed, inflated and deflated. His orifices emitted a large amount of black mist, like a leaking high-pressure balloon.

As for Wei Dongliu, he was a mysterious figure with no face. Countless faces flashed across his own, as if each were his own, and yet as if none belonged to him.

The group stared at their reflections in the mirror, silent and wordless.

After a while, Gu Lie murmured,

“What the hell is this damn thing?”

“There are no traces of illusion techniques here,” Jiang Liyan said seriously, “it seems that it’s merely distorting our images in some way.”

“Can I smash it?” Wen Yang asked in a sinister tone, clearly displeased with the reflection in the mirror.

“Better not,” Wei Dongliu advised as he took out a golden small sword, balanced it on his palm, and flicked it forward like a dart.

The small sword went into the mirror, and in an instant, the reflections of everyone disappeared. The giant mirror surface opened like a door, revealing the passage behind.

“So what exactly was that?” Gu Lie asked, his tone still somewhat lost and hazy.

“Who cares what it was, as long as we’re past it,” Wen Yang said impatiently.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Wei Dongliu watched calmly from the side and silently asked the Kunlun Mirror,

“What was that in the mirror just now?”

“Template mapping,” Kunlun Mirror replied tersely, “You wouldn’t understand if I explained.”

Wei Dongliu: ?

Hey, how am I supposed to understand if you don’t tell me? Damned riddle mirror!

The group continued moving forward until they reached a spacious area resembling a main hall.

Both Kunlun and Shushan had such halls where ancestral worship and other ceremonies were held, and thus, they were often decorated with magnificence and splendor… otherwise, they wouldn’t reflect the majesty of the sect.

However, while the main hall of the Mirror Lake Divine Palace was also luxurious and grand, it was probably left in such disarray due to the hasty departure previously, leaving the scene almost a mess.

Overturned tables, cups scattered on the ground, torn and ripped draperies showcased the desperate tension the Demon Race felt when they were cornered, vividly displayed before everyone’s eyes.

“Be careful,” Jiang Liyan suddenly said, “The Demon Race withdrew almost a hundred thousand years ago, the palace itself might be fine, but how could these pieces of furniture last undamaged to this day?”

Hearing this, everyone immediately converged towards the center, careful not to touch the tables and cups on the ground.

“Wei Dao-friend, what do you think?” Wen Yang suddenly asked, clearly seeking his advice.

“Illusion technique,” Wei Dongliu replied succinctly.

“It’s an illusion technique?” Gu Lie said in shock and skepticism. He then bit his finger, smeared the blood on his forehead, and pinched a strange spell, then widened his eyes to look.

No change.

Whether it was the tables, cups, the draperies, or even the gold paint on the pillars, none of them showed any signs of aging.

It was as if the departure had occurred just the day before.

He couldn’t help looking suspiciously at Wei Dongliu again, only to see him snap his fingers.

In concert with the Kunlun Mirror, a secret technique to break the illusion was activated, and in an instant, all the surrounding furniture vanished… The only thing left was the wall in front of the main hall, which also had a giant mirror embedded in it.

A figure emerged from the mirror, initially vague, but as he walked closer, his facial features became clearer and clearer until he stood in front of the mirror and everyone saw that it was actually Gu Lie.

To be precise, it was the demonic Buddha-like Gu Lie they had seen in the mirror before.

The Demon Buddha greeted them with a single-palm salute, chanted “Amitabha,” and then stepped straight out of the mirror into the great hall.

“What the hell are you!” Gu Lie immediately screamed.

“Amitabha.” The Demon Buddha glared with bulging eyes, grinding his teeth, his expression full of furious ferocity.

But for some reason, there was a look of compassion in his eyes, and his tone was gentle and merciful:

“Gu Lie, I am the good thoughts in your heart.”

“You disguise yourself with slaughter and brutality, but it’s to keep the goodness in your heart….”

“Shut the hell up!” Gu Lie didn’t dare to let him finish, immediately drawing the Blood-colored Flying Sword and charged forward with clenched teeth.

Facing the Blood-colored Flying Sword, the Demon Buddha didn’t dodge or evade but simply swung the Buddhist beads in his left hand which wrapped around several times on the incoming sword, stopping it completely from chopping down.

Jiang Liyan waved her robe and three Demon Heads flew out, transforming into giant men with green faces and fangs in the air, the thirty-six manifested demons of the Heavenly Demon Path, ferociously grabbing at the Demon Buddha.

The Demon Buddha counter-stroked, exchanging a palm strike with the manifested demons, only to see the latter’s arm from palm to elbow, from elbow to shoulder, explode instantaneously, bones shattered and flesh bursting apart.

“The Esteemed One of Blood Rage!” Jiang Liyan screamed, “Old Demon Gu, you’ve cultivated the Heiluga Dharma Body?”

“That’s not me!” Gu Lie ranted frantically.

Jiang Liyan continued manipulating the spells, controlling the two remaining manifested demons to keep engaging with the Demon Buddha, avoiding a direct and tough confrontation.

Wen Yang brought his two fingers together and initiated the “Grudge Curse Binding Kill,” an attack incantation from the Nether Ghost Path, sending countless gray ghost shadows toward it.

The Demon Buddha, holding his Buddhist beads in his right hand, was arm-wrestling the sweat-drenched Gu Lie who was controlling the Flying Sword, and with his left hand, he was entangled with Jiang the Witch’s manifested demons. Suddenly, as if by magic, he produced a purple-gold alms bowl from his sleeve, catching the rushing gray ghost shadows in one fell swoop.

Wen Yang suddenly realized the connection with his ghost spirits was severed, nearly spitting blood in anger and fear, exclaiming:

“Golden Core Realm! If the opponent can easily capture my Nether Ghosts, they must be of the Golden Core Realm without a doubt!”

“If not in the Golden Core Realm, how could he confront the Esteemed One of Blood Rage?!” Gu Lie yelled in horror and disarray, completely at a disadvantage, with his Flying Sword being pulled around by the Demon Buddha’s beads, utterly embarrassed.

“Get out of the way! Let me do it!” Long Xiaoqi suddenly charged forward, her arm swelling rapidly into a giant claw, smacking straight down toward the Demon Buddha’s crown.

Her giant claw was even mightier than Jiang the Witch’s manifested demons, bearing a strong gust of wind on its strike. The Demon Buddha cleverly stepped back to evade, and with a backhanded elbow, toppled Long Xiaoqi.

Gu Lie attempted to seize the chance to recover his Flying Sword but was thwarted as the Demon Buddha span his beads, tossing the Blood-colored Flying Sword into a corner where it lay immobilized.

Then another palm strike from the Demon Buddha sent Gu Lie flying. He then strode towards Wen Yang and the others.

Wen Yang clenched his teeth, forming a spell with his hand, seemingly ready to launch a desperate secret technique.

Jiang Liyan also summoned five more manifested demons, placing them in front, while she quietly retreated.

The Demon Buddha continued his pace, chanting aloud:

“I am but a drifting duckweed, why seek the lifespan of a green pine? I shall now relieve you of your burdens, just give me a moment.”

He launched his palms forward, and an iron-blue glow surfaced above them, accompanied by the thunderous roar of the wind following the punches.

One palm dispersed Wen Yang’s Nether Ghosts and another repelled Jiang the Witch’s manifested demons, and just as he was about to kill them on the spot, a Flying Sword suddenly intercepted from the side, holding off his iron fist.

There stood Wei Dongliu, holding the sword with one hand, his hair and pupils blood-red, clearly in the state of a Chaotic Demon Body, scornfully scanning the surroundings and saying:

“Such a mediocre opponent has you all looking like this?”

No sooner had his words fallen than the Demon Buddha abruptly retreated, growling:

“Where has this outsider evil demon come from? No… this aura, are you the progeny of Abhramu?”

“Are you fit to inquire about my origins?” Wei Dongliu countered with a sword swing, and the Demon Buddha met it with both hands, only to have his palms penetrated by the Myriad Demons Evil Spirit Sword, thrusting straight at his face!