2025-02-05 19:33:01Golden glittering dust flew as Zhao Lingyun pulled a worn scroll from the highest shelf of the Ancient Library. The room was silent, only the ticking of the water clock from the corner of the room breaking the silence. Outside, the sun had long since set, and the dim light from the lamp crystals created dancing shadows on the tall walls of the library.
“History of Realm Interaction: Early Period of Separation,” he read the scroll's title silently. His practiced hands carefully broke the ancient seal. However, as the scroll unfolded, his brow furrowed in confusion. The initial pages looked normal, containing the standard accounts of the separation of realms. But in the middle of the scroll, the writing changed. Not only was the content different-the style of writing, even the energy emanating from the ink was unfamiliar. “...and in those days, before the Supreme Council enacted the Law of Absolute Separation, the two realms lived in harmony. Light and shadow were not enemies, but two sides of the same coin. Sages from both realms often gathered in the Hall of Balance to exchange knowledge...” Zhao Lingyun held his breath. The Hall of Balance? That name had never appeared in any official records. Suddenly, a voice startled him. “Looking for something interesting, Young General?” Zhao Lingyun turned around quickly. In the doorway of the library stood Elder Zhang Qingxuan, one of the oldest members of the Heavenly Council. His pale blue eyes stared intently at the scroll in Zhao Lingyun's hand. “Elder Zhang,” Zhao Lingyun bowed respectfully, without letting go of the scroll. “I'm studying the history of the realm for a better defense strategy.” Zhang Qingxuan stepped over, his white robes sweeping the floor silently. “Ah, sure. But isn't it strange that a brilliant young general like you chooses to read... an unsanctioned version?” “The unsanctioned version?” Zhao Lingyun repeated carefully. “Oh, come on.” Zhang Qingxuan smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “We both know the scroll should have been destroyed centuries ago. The fact that it's still here... well, it seems like someone was negligent in their duties.” Before Zhao Lingyun could react, Zhang Qingxuan raised his hand. A beam of golden energy shot towards the scroll. But something surprising happened. The scroll didn't burn. Instead, the golden energy was absorbed, and for a moment, the writing inside glowed with a strange light-half gold, half silver. “Interesting,” murmured Zhang Qingxuan, for the first time looking genuinely surprised. “Very... interesting.” Zhao Lingyun looked at the scroll in his hand, then at the elder. There was something in Zhang Qingxuan's reaction that didn't add up-as if he had expected this to happen. “Elder Zhang,” Zhao Lingyun began carefully, ”you don't seem too surprised to find me here.” Zhang Qingxuan chuckled. “Ah, you are indeed as smart as they say. No, Young General. I am not surprised. Actually... I was waiting for you.” “Waiting?” “You think the scroll's being there is a coincidence? Or how did you manage to easily find this supposedly sealed part of the library?” Zhang Qingxuan stepped to the window, staring at the red clouds that were never absent in the night sky. “We've been watching you, Zhao Lingyun. Since day one you've shown... unusual tendencies in your fighting techniques.” Zhao Lingyun felt the tension in the air. His hand slowly moved towards his sword. “Don't worry,” Zhang Qingxuan raised his hand in a gesture of peace. “If we wish for your death, you will never reach the position of General.” “We?” “There is a small group among the elders who... well, let's just say we have different views on the separation of realms.” Zhang Qingxuan turned around, his pale eyes now flashing with a strange intensity. “And we have been waiting for someone like you-someone brave enough to question, strong enough to endure, and wise enough not to act rashly.” Before Zhao Lingyun could digest this, the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching. Zhang Qingxuan moved quickly, touching the scroll in Zhao Lingyun's hand. In an instant, the scroll disappeared. “Find me at the Dusk Moon Pavilion the next full moon,” he whispered quickly. “And Zhao Lingyun... be careful who you trust. Not everything that shines is true light.” Just then, two library guards appeared at the door. Zhang Qingxuan had already changed his demeanor, returning to being a cold and stiff elder. “Ah, General Zhao,” he said in a loud voice. “Next time ask for official permission before accessing this section. We don't want any... misunderstandings.” With that, he walked away, leaving Zhao Lingyun with a myriad of new questions. But one thing became clear-the game he was playing was far more complex than he had expected. The next morning, as he led his troops' routine training, Zhao Lingyun noticed something strange. Hong Ying, the young soldier he had seen practicing shadow techniques, was absent. When she asked, no one remembered having a soldier by that name. In the midst of her confusion, a piece of paper floated down from the sleeve of her robe-a paper that she was sure hadn't been there before. On it, written in the same ancient script that he had seen on the scroll last night: “Not all lost memories are completely erased. Meet me at the place where light and shadow meet in harmony. -H.Y.” Zhao Lingyun crumpled the paper in his grip. H.Y.-Hong Ying? But how could that be? And why didn't anyone remember her? When he returned to his room that night, another surprise awaited him. On his desk lay a small mirror-a perfect replica of the large mirror he had found in the library. And as she gazed into it, what she saw was not her own reflection, but a room she recognized from her dreams: The Twilight Library. In the mirror, Hong Ying stood among the bookshelves, but her appearance had changed. Her black hair was now golden, and her eyes-one golden, one red-reminded him of someone. “Lin... Fengtian?” Zhao Lingyun whispered in disbelief. The image in the mirror smiled, before fading into a silvery mist. On the surface of the mirror that returned to normal, writing appeared that slowly disappeared: “Not everything you see is reality, not everything that is real you can see. Choose your allies carefully, Young General. Even light can be deceiving.” Zhao Lingyun sat in his chair, massaging his throbbing temples. In one day, everything he believed in had been shaken. Zhang Qingxuan and his secret society, Hong Ying who disappeared-or perhaps never existed, and now this mysterious mirror. But his biggest question was: Why did they choose it? And more importantly, what did they really want from it? In the distance, red clouds moved in a formation that now looked like it was mocking. And somewhere between realms, a mysterious figure smiled, observing the young general's confusion through an identical mirror. “Good,” the figure whispered in a voice that sounded like a combination of two different voices. “Let confusion guide him to the truth. For only in confusion will true questions arise.” Dawn was barely breaking when Zhao Lingyun found something surprising at the bottom of his desk drawer-a soldier's badge with the name “Hong Ying” engraved on it that was slowly fading into “Lin Chen”. His heart skipped a beat. Lin Chen-the name listed in the official records as one of the soldiers who died in the Battle of Red Dawn five hundred years ago. The same battle where Li Tianshen and Xiao Yingmei were last seen. In the midst of his confusion, a soft knock sounded from the door. Wei Xuan stepped in, but there was something different about the elder. His normally golden eyes now seemed misty, as if covered by a thin veil. “You found it,” he said, his eyes fixed on the badge in Zhao Lingyun's hand. “Sooner than we expected.” “'We'?” Zhao Lingyun raised his eyebrows. “You're also part of Zhang Qingxuan's group?” Wei Xuan smiled mysteriously, but the smile did not reach his misty eyes. “The truth is much more complicated, Young General. What you see as a 'group' might just be a shadow of something bigger. Just like the Hong Ying you know... or don't know.” With a barely perceptible movement, Wei Xuan touched the badge in Zhao Lingyun's hand. Instantly, the name engraved on it changed again-this time to “Ying Fenghua”, a name that made Zhao Lingyun's blood seem to freeze. Ying Fenghua was his mother's real name, a soldier who supposedly disappeared on a secret mission before he was born. A name he wasn't even supposed to know. “Remember, Zhao Lingyun,” Wei Xuan whispered before stepping back towards the door, his body slowly becoming transparent. “In a world where memories can be manipulated and reality can be fabricated, the only truth is the one written in your own blood.”
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FRAGMENTED REFLECTION
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PARADOXICAL RESONANCE
The touch between the Writer and the Meta-Writer creates a phenomenon that cannot be explained by any language-neither existing nor imaginable. Not light, not sound, not vibration, but a kind of fundamental reorganization of meaning itself. Like the entire vocabulary of existence is being rearranged in a new, previously unimaginable order.As the two touch, the Storyteller watches with widened eyes as the space around them turns into a blank canvas-not white or black, but an existence without attributes, waiting to be redefined.Then, with the blink of an eye, everything returns to normal. Mei Ling's home was restored, the fluctuations in reality ceased, and the narrative structure seemed to stabilize again. But something was different-something fundamental.“What just happened?” The Storyteller asked, staring alternately between the Storyteller and the figure that had been the Meta-Writer.Mei Ling's figure now stood with a different posture-more upright, more graceful, her eyes radi
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The Library of Reality unfolded before Lin Fengtian like an endless maze of shelves that reached impossible heights. The lighting came from colorful balls of energy floating freely in the air, moving in seemingly random yet harmonious patterns. The atmosphere is heavy with knowledge and stories-as if the air itself has a consciousness.“All possible and impossible stories, all realities that exist and those that never materialized, are all stored here,” the Storyteller explained, walking beside Lin Fengtian with a light step that contrasted with his aged appearance.Lin Fengtian scanned the books, scrolls, and strange artifacts lining the shelves. Some emitted energies that he recognized-white from the Architect, golden from the Balancer, silvery from the Compiler, even emptiness from the Weaver. But most emitted energies and colors that were completely foreign to him.“How can all this... exist?” Lin Fengtian asked, his voice echoing in a room that seemed not to be bound by normal ac
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The transformed fragments of reality sparkled like crystals around Lin Fengtian, forming a new dimensional formation that had never existed before. The Resonance Dimension had transformed into something that could no longer be defined with the old vocabulary. Its cosmic architecture now resembled a complex network that was constantly moving, evolving, and reflecting a new state of collective consciousness.Lin Fengtian hovered at the center of this transformative masterpiece, his body radiating a harmonious light that was a perfect blend of the four essences-white of the Architect, golden of the Balancer, silvery of the Constructor, and shimmering transparent of the Key of Truth that his mother had passed down.“Incredible,” Mei Ling whispered, her brown eyes reflecting a spectrum of colors that no dimension had ever seen. “You've brought the universe to a whole new level of consciousness.”Lin Fengtian nodded slowly, the four essences surging beneath the surface of his skin like a si
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Absolute silence enveloped the Resonance Dimension. Even the dimensional cracks emitting the Architect's white light seemed frozen in time. Lin Fengtian felt the world slowing down around him, every second felt like an eternity while his mother's words echoed in his mind.“My father...?” Lin Fengtian finally whispered, his voice almost inaudible.Mei Ling nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving the silvery figure of the Compounder who now seemed frozen in his defensive position. “That's right, my child. Although not in the form you see now.”Lin Fengtian looked from his mother to the Compiler, then to Elder Yi who stood rigid with a calculative expression on his face. “No way... how could that be...?”“Twenty-seven years ago,” Mei Ling began, her voice clear as morning dew after a long sleep, ”I was a young cultivator under Elder Yi's guidance. I had a natural resonance talent, but it was not strong enough to become a vessel. My duty is to be the guardian of the artifacts in the Temple
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Lin Fengtian felt the world around him tremble. Not a physical vibration, but rather the resonance of reality wavering under the weight of the newly revealed truth. He looked at Elder Yi with a profound look-a mixture of disappointment, anger, and something darker.“Blood infusion?” Lin Fengtian's voice sounded foreign even to himself. “So I'm not a natural vessel. I'm just... an experiment?”Elder Yi raised his face, which now looked very old. The age lines that were usually camouflaged by his authoritative aura were now clearly visible like gaping wounds.“Not an experiment, Lin Fengtian. You are the last hope.”Lin Fengtian laughed blandly. “And that justifies the lies all along? Justifies you guys manipulating my life since I couldn't even speak yet?”The wind blew strongly in the Resonance Dimension, carrying energy flakes that glittered like stardust. In the distance, the dimensional sky began to change color-from silvery blue to a menacing dark purple. A sign that their time wa
THE CANVAS OF TRUTH
Lin Fengtian stood in the middle of a sea of his own reflections. Each face-even his own-had a different expression, age, and features. Some looked wise and tired, while others were young yet cold and calculating. There were versions of her with golden eyes like the Last One, while others seemed completely human without a trace of primordial power.“How could I possibly find my true self?” Lin Fengtian whispered to himself, “If I don't know who I really am myself?”“That's the essence of this test,” one of his reflections replied, the figure of a young man younger than the current Lin Fengtian, with long hair and a gentle gaze. “Finding yourself among the possibilities.”Another reflection-an old man with an elongated scar on his face-laughed dryly. “Don't listen to him. He's just Lin Fengtian who never met Elder Yi. The version that never existed other than in possibility.”“And you're the version that gave up on the Compiler,” the third reflection mocked, a man with sharp eyes and a
