In the central energy chamber deep beneath Purgatory Corridors Academy, Lanqi turned around to face the deep, ink-black purple mirror surface.
Concentric ripples stirred across the center of the mirror, and the dance of mana blooming over the serene glass gradually subsided.
“Tiberius, thank you for the magic artifact you left behind.”
Lanqi offered his thanks to the six-sided cubic mirror in the energy chamber.
“It’s a pity we can’t bring this mirror back to the mortal realm. Tens of thousands of years later, in our era, who knows where the Mirror of Tiberius has been buried.”
Talia figured that even if the Mirror of Tiberius had survived, it would only have suffered far worse damage.
“Even if we could bring it back, we wouldn’t be able to use it anyway,” Lanqi remarked to Talia in their shared thoughts.
Between the two of them, they could cobble together a nine-seal demon, but not a Tier 9.
First, its activation requirement called for a Tier 9 great demon to expend soul engravings just to take a gamble. Second, one had to wager one’s life to win; every lost soul engraving inflicted irreversible trauma upon the caster’s soul. Even a Tier 9 great demon might fall into a prolonged weakened state, their strength permanently diminished thereafter.
Unless driven into an utter dead end, there was practically no reason to ever use the Mirror of Tiberius.
After all, the price of glimpsing the future was a gamble against fate, with one’s own soul as the stake.
“We owe it all to Caliera,” Talia mused wistfully.
Now that she was about to leave this mirror—where they had spent only a single day, yet felt as though they had lingered for an eternity—she felt a pang of reluctance.
The sole unsolved mystery was what Caliera herself had seen in the divination attempt she had spent.
“Caliera foresaw the future a step ahead and knew what would happen if the Lord of the Black Sun used this Mirror of Tiberius... That’s why she wrote in her letter that she was leaving the choice to him, and left him three full chances to ensure that if he ever used it, he would definitely prevail.”
Having walked Lankeluosi’s former path three times over, Lanqi now thoroughly understood the whole cause and effect, as well as Caliera’s enduring intent.
Had he chosen not to use it, he would have lived in the Fallen Land of Gentle Slumber, peacefully growing old and dying—illusory, yet blissful.
And if he chose to use it, he was bound to endure torment, shatter the false peace of the Blood Moon Ruined World, and bear endless punishment—real, yet cruel.
Caliera had left every choice to Lankeluosi, at the cost of sacrificing everything she had.
“You could say Caliera was the strongest teammate Lankeluosi ever had in his entire life. Without her, he truly couldn’t have won,” Lanqi reviewed with Talia.
“Still...” Talia said with tender regret, “Caliera gave her life-souls to Lankeluosi and Tamisha, spent all her soul engravings to pay the toll for Lankeluosi, and the remainder of her soul and mana dissolved into a Great Demon Trial left as a legacy for future demons. Even according to the legends of the Church of the Goddess of Fate, she can never reincarnate.”
She had never seen Caliera in person, but as the heir to Caliera’s abilities, she now felt deep fondness toward her, as though a part of Caliera lived on within her own body.
“I don’t believe in reincarnation anyway,” Lanqi murmured, gazing at the silver-white light and shadow drifting across the fantastical spiral on the surface of the Mirror of Tiberius. “Though if reincarnation truly exists, Caliera might not be truly gone either.”
In a sense, Tamisha was a life that sprouted from Caliera’s life-soul, while Lankeluosi, having assimilated part of Caliera’s primordial life-soul, was inextricably linked to her as well.
If Tamisha could reincarnate, her reincarnation would also be Caliera’s in an alternative way.
Perhaps fate would guide those bound by life-souls back together once more.
“Let’s go. Don’t obsess over the Inverted Lord’s power any longer. Stop always thinking about gambling—living a peaceful, stable life is what really matters.”
Talia knew full well that her disciple had the mindset of a gambler, which made him dangerously compatible with the Inverted Lord’s high-risk, high-reward treasures.
The Inverted Lord never favored the cowardly and faint-hearted; on the contrary, he admired those brave enough to stake their lives on a gamble—like Lanqi.
Lanqi had been steady so far, but gambling in the long run would inevitably crash and burn.
Her advice was to quit while ahead.
She had no desire to end up a refugee along with him.
“Hiss... but once I reach Tier 9, it seems I could use Lanfu’s soul engravings. Her life can be gambled with however I like.”
Lanqi seemed to realize something as the thought struck him.
Lanfu really was an all-access pass to the Inverted Lord.
“Be a decent person, Lanqi! Lanfu’s life is a life too, and she holds grudges.”
Talia suspected that the last time the Poet of Great Love shrieked at Boss Cat Restaurant—affecting her mind and causing both her and Lanqi to explode upstairs while reciting their script—was because Lanqi had committed some heinous deed in the Northern Continent, leaving Lanfu nursing a grudge.
“I only used her to clear the Inverted Lord’s Great Demon Trial once. It didn’t hurt at all. Oh, right, I also poured a few bottles of snowfield liquor down her throat. That part felt a bit like fire burning—terribly painful from the throat all the way to the stomach,” Lanqi recounted matter-of-factly. He looked down and took Tamisha’s hand, preparing to leave the central energy chamber.
So it really was clearing the Inverted Lord Tiberius’s trial!
“Quit while you’re ahead, Ah Lan. You should count your blessings that your primary summon is usually me nowadays, or one day you’ll end up dead without ever knowing why,” Talia said to Lanqi in his mind.
She was genuinely a little afraid.
As a fellow demon, she knew all too well that Lanfu was not someone to be trifled with.
“Don’t worry, Lanfu doesn’t mind,” Lanqi replied without the slightest panic, leading Tamisha out of the central chamber enveloped in an eternal night of stars.
Silence enveloped the streamlined corridor leading to the Inverted Mirror Corridor, making Lanqi and Tamisha feel as though they were walking through an illusory gallery.
The heavy mechanical rumble interwove with the hum of mana conduits, gradually fading into the distance along with the central chamber behind them.
Lanqi and Talia continued conversing in their minds along the way.
After walking for quite some time and stepping through an automatically parting black phantom door, they finally saw the light of the Inverted Mirror Corridor once again.
Overwhelming prismatic refractions filled the space. The walls, floor, and ceiling were densely inlaid with crystal-clear prisms of various shapes and sizes, refracting dazzling multicolored radiance. A hazy, enchanting rainbow mist drifted through the air, making Lanqi feel as though he had wandered into another dimension of spacetime.
“Tamisha, from here on, I’ll have to trouble you to lead the way again,” Lanqi said, looking down at the small figure whose hand he held.
The Inverted Mirror Corridor required an authorized person like Tamisha to pass through.
If she enrolled in Purgatory Corridors Academy in the future, she would be able to easily reach places that even the headmaster couldn’t access.
She was, in every sense, the true crown princess of the academy.
“Follow me.”
Tamisha tightened her grip on Lanqi’s hand and proactively strode forward.
“Tamisha, are you hungry?”
Although Lanqi had left her three boxes of pastries, by the time they emerged from the Mirror of Tiberius, it was around nine in the evening.
“I’m alright,” Tamisha said, her eyes carrying a hint of drowsiness. “Though if you’re taking me to eat, I can still eat.”
She had been waiting all along for the Phantom Demon to take her to the Demon King’s Bestowed Restaurant for dinner as promised.
“Of course, I’ll take you,” Lanqi added, reaffirming his earlier promise.
Tamisha didn’t say anything, but her footsteps quickened slightly.
“Ah, I’m so sleepy and hungry. Quitting time has finally arrived.”
Hearing Lanqi mention the Demon King’s Bestowed Restaurant, Talia felt all the exhaustion and anticipation of the day awaken within her.
“Sooner or later, I’ll still have to give Lanfu back to you, won’t I? The two of us living together like this is bound to be a bit inconvenient.”
She resumed their earlier conversation.
Led by Tamisha, Lanqi stepped into the magnificent transition corridor. On either side stood inverted statues several meters tall, and a forest of glass trees shimmered with cold silver light.
Under the illumination, the prisms refracted soft, dreamy radiance, spilling vibrant luster across the stone floor polished like a mirror—as if they were strolling through a vast river of stars.
Talia watched along through Lanqi’s eyes.
She felt that merging for a while was fine only when they were away from Ikerite, traveling in a foreign land.
Once they truly returned to the royal capital of Ikerite, they couldn’t keep living together and reading each other’s minds every day like this.
Otherwise, just the thought of having to disguise herself as the Poet of Great Love every day—like in the week before departing for the Kingdom of Posen—made her scalp tingle with dread.
“True. Look on the bright side: during our stay here in the Creti Empire’s capital, Brierda, we don’t need to put on an act. There are no acquaintances or friends from Ikerite around us at all,” Lanqi remarked with relief.
The birth of the Demon King of Mad Love had been an accident in itself.
Neither he nor Talia had expected Talia’s fusion with the Poet of Great Love to be so powerful, let alone that separating them after the fusion would prove exceedingly difficult.
“Sigh, once we get back to Hutton Kingdom, your most beautiful and powerful signature card will be gone,” Talia sighed mournfully, showing no hesitation in praising herself.
“The Demon King of Mad Love really is useful. Once I reach Tier 7, she can become a permanent ultimate move,” Lanqi didn’t deny it.
Yet he truly couldn’t keep relying on her power forever.
“Mhm. But if you run into trouble in the future, her power will still be available for you to use. After all, who told you to be her good disciple?”
Hearing Lanqi’s sincere thoughts, Talia seemed quite pleased, humming lightly in response.
“A Demon King of Mad Love who can fight continuously is too powerful—she’s practically a god,” Lanqi praised.
Ever since he obtained a god, his fighting style had completely changed.
Summoning even one more creature would be an insult to the god’s competence.
“Stop talking like that... You sound like an internet troll...” Talia said, a bit shy.
“Behold the humility of a god,” Lanqi continued his praise.
“That’s enough from you...” Talia’s voice grew softer and softer as she stifled a laugh.
“Soon, I will be able to master the power of god.”
After such prolonged tempering, his mental strength had already transformed.
Advancing to Tier 7 after clearing this Tier 8 Shadow World was practically set in stone.
Reaching the transcendent realm of Tier 7 brought a fundamental leap in base attributes, at which point he would be fully capable of bearing the heavy Talia—such was the accumulation and depth of a god.
“...”
Hearing this, before Talia’s bashful mood could even bloom, it turned as black as the bottom of a pot.
She had caught the keyword in Lanqi’s thought, but couldn’t be bothered to interrogate him on it.
“Heh, since you’re so confident, I’ll feast on your mana however I please when the time comes. I’ll maintain my physical form twenty-four hours a day to give you high-intensity training—just make sure you don’t collapse first, okay?”
Talia gave a cold laugh.
If Lanqi called her heavy, fine, heavy she’d be. She would show him what mana-burning training truly looked like.
“Wait, Master, with that kind of free time on your hands, why don’t you exercise to lose the weight you gained recently instead of coming to train me?” Lanqi asked with utter bluntness.
“?”
“Th-there is nothing wrong with me gaining weight! Before, I was starved too thin when I was a refugee! The weight I gained back all went to the right places!!” Talia shouted at him, her voice trembling with indignation.
If she were wearing Lanfu’s pleated skirt and school uniform, Lanqi might have noticed it more visually; wearing winter clothes in the Creti Empire, he naturally couldn’t tell.
“...”
Even Lanqi was struck speechless by Talia’s sudden self-exposing outburst.
“Y-you should focus on how you’re going to advance to Tier 7 first!”
Talia quickly changed the subject.
Lanqi still had one necessary prerequisite for advancing to Tier 7: he needed an advancement token with matching attributes.
“Master, I can only rely on you,” Lanqi said immediately.
Back then, Talia had been the one to teach him the knowledge of engraving class ranks, and selecting materials would require her expert consultation as well.
For now, once they returned to the mortal realm, they might be able to obtain a Pink Sacred quality primary token in the Creti Empire, but there was no guarantee it would match his best-suited sealing attribute.
“Hmph, of course I’ll help you,” Talia replied smugly.
As expected, her little disciple couldn’t manage without her now.
Whenever trouble arose, he had to rely on her.
As they walked deeper, the light and shadow in the Inverted Mirror Corridor shifted continually, converging one moment and scattering the next. Every step brought a new view, with arches and alcoves appearing along both sides.
Every prism Lanqi and Tamisha passed reflected the tall and small silhouettes of a Phantom Demon and a Night Demon.
The prisms lining the corridor never repeated, and the ground grew increasingly steep.
Amid subtle sensations of rising and falling, flights of stairs inlaid with magic crystals emerged. Climbing past all the steps and traversing a winding passage, the external noise vanished completely, and the space opened up before them.
A warded gate over ten meters tall loomed ahead.
“We’re here,” Tamisha said, pointing to the doors.
Forged from ancient antimagic steel, the gates were covered in the curse seals of a Tier 9 barrier. Under ordinary circumstances, breaching them by force was an absolute impossibility.
“Thank you. Do you want to turn back into a kitten?” Lanqi squatted down and asked Tamisha.
He wasn’t sure if Tamisha wished to appear before others in her true form.
He respected every child’s own preferences and thoughts.
“Do you think I should?” Tamisha hesitated for a moment before asking.
“It’s up to you. In my eyes, you are Tamisha regardless—no matter what form you take, that won’t change,” Lanqi replied with a smile.
“...”
Tamisha pondered for a few seconds.
“Then I won’t turn into a cat,” she decided.
Remaining in her true form, Tamisha took two more steps forward hand in hand with Lanqi. The moment they reached the doors, the radiance across the gate flared brilliantly.
Countless gear-shaped patterns swirled and danced in midair before finally transforming into resplendent stardust that dissipated into the thick darkness.
Passing through the Inverted Mirror Corridor—the secret passage connecting the central energy chamber to the base of Purgatory Corridors’ structures—Lanqi and Tamisha returned to the familiar interior of the academy, where the light was no longer so blinding.
“Whoa, won’t Hyperion and the others see you bringing back an adorable child in a moment?” Talia remarked in Lanqi’s ear.
Tamisha, who had always appeared as a little gray kitten, had only revealed her true form before Lanqi today; even Hyperion, who had carried her all the way from the Demon King City Naicalis to Purgatory City Pasqual, had never seen it.
“They should probably be able to tell she’s Tamisha pretty quickly,” Lanqi replied in thought, glancing at the gray-haired little girl.
“Not necessarily. If you turned from a human into a cat one day, your friends wouldn’t necessarily recognize you. The same goes for a cat turning into a human—the difference is just too vast.”
If Talia hadn’t been sharing Lanqi’s vision, she wouldn’t have guessed that this adorable little demon girl was that tiny gray kitten either.
“It’s fine. This child looks like you, not me. There won’t be any misunderstanding,” Lanqi replied nonchalantly.
“Wait, the way you said that sounds like...”
Talia couldn’t quite pinpoint what was wrong with Lanqi’s phrasing, but something definitely was.
Chapter 794