One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

The group continued onward.

With Nie Lingfeng and Chen Duo joining the fray, the team's advance accelerated considerably. The monsters formed from obsession—headless soldiers in armor, blood-soaked vengeful spirits, and giant human-faced spiders—most couldn't withstand a single strike against the two's flames. Even those that slipped through the net were swiftly dealt with by Zhang Chulan's lightning magic, Wang Ye's Feng Hou Qi Men, Zhang Lingyu's Yin Wu Lei, and Zhuge Qing's Wu Hou Qi Men.

Feng Baobao is the most relaxed.

She carried a kitchen knife, walking at the back of the group as if taking a stroll. Occasionally, a monster would sneak up from behind, but without turning her head, she would swiftly slice it in two. The movement was fluid and effortless, like chopping vegetables.

But the deeper you go, the more chaotic the surrounding "rules" become.

Gravity fluctuates. Sometimes it's so light it feels like you're about to float away, and everyone has to grab onto nearby rocks or tree roots to avoid being blown away. Other times it's so heavy you can barely move, and every step requires a tremendous effort, making a dull "thump" sound as if you're stepping on a metal plate.

The temperature fluctuates wildly. One moment you're in the desert, so hot that your sweat evaporates as soon as it comes out, leaving a layer of white salt. The next second you might fall into an ice cave, so cold that your bones are shivering, and your breath condenses into ice crystals in the air, making a crisp "clink-clink" sound when it hits the ground.

The lighting was eerie. Sometimes it was as bright as day, so bright it was blinding, forcing everyone to squint to see anything. Other times it was pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, and you had to rely on hearing and touch to find your way. Sometimes it was a strange red light, like blood splattered on the chaotic scenery, making everything seem sinister and terrifying.

What's more troublesome is that the intensity of those "obsessions" is getting higher and higher.

No longer are they single, independent obsessions, but countless obsessions intertwined, forming a massive "clump of obsessions." They have no fixed form, but are merely a writhing, ever-changing black mist, within which one can hear countless voices crying, cursing, and pleading. Approaching them, those voices penetrate directly into the brain, causing hallucinations and revealing one's most terrifying visions.

Zhang Chulan saw Xu Xiang.

The old man who had watched him grow up stood before him, covered in blood, staring at him with his cloudy eyes, muttering, "Chu Lan... I die with my eyes open... Feng Baobao... she's not human..."

Zhang Chulan knew it was an illusion, but the scene was so real that he trembled all over and his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists.

Wang also saw his parents.

Two elderly people knelt before him, tears streaming down their faces: "Ye'er... you shouldn't have come... you'll die... the Wang family line... will end..."

Wang Ye closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his eyes were clear.

"It's fake," he said. "It's all fake."

Feng Baobao was the calmest.

She stood there, staring at the scene in her hallucination—an empty valley, devoid of any human presence. Her face was expressionless; she simply tilted her head and said, "Oh, it's still this place."

Hallucinations had no effect on her.

Because she felt no fear.

After passing through the "Swamp of Resentment" composed of countless resentments, the group arrived at a strange area.

It was a forest.

But the trees in the forest are not trees.

They are mirrors.

Countless mirrors, large and small, high and low, stretch from the ground to unseen heights. Some are rectangular, some round, some irregular, some... in the shape of people. They are densely packed together, mirror to mirror, reflecting each other, turning the entire space into an infinitely extending, endless world within the mirrors.

There is a person's reflection in every mirror.

But it is not a reflection of everyone.

It's something else.

In some mirrors, a person is crying, crying their heart out, tears turning to blood. In some mirrors, a person is laughing, laughing hysterically, their face contorted in pain. In some mirrors, a person is killing, the knife flashing, blood splattering. In some mirrors, a person is being killed, eyes wide open, dying with unfinished business.

Countless scenes, countless lives, countless obsessions are frozen in these mirrors.

"The Forest of Mirrors." Zhuge Qing closed the ancient book, his expression grave. "It reflects the deepest fears within a person's heart. Each mirror here represents a person who died here; their final fears are forever left in the mirror. Those who enter this forest will be affected by the images in the mirrors, seeing their deepest fears, and then..."

He didn't finish speaking, but everyone understood.

Then, it becomes a new mirror.

"How will you get through this?" Nie Lingfeng asked.

"I don't know." Wang Ye shook his head. "We didn't go this deep last time. But according to ancient records, there is only one way to get through the Mirror Forest—to face your deepest fear and not be controlled by it. If you can't do that, you will be swallowed by the mirror."

"Confront your fear?" Zhang Chulan smiled wryly. "Easier said than done. I almost couldn't hold back when I saw Grandpa Xu just now."

"Whether you can bear it or not, you have to endure it," Zhang Lingyu said calmly. "Let's go."

He was the first to step into the Mirror Forest.

The others followed.

As soon as they entered the forest, the mirrors around them began to change. The previously still images suddenly came to life. The people in the mirrors began to move, to speak, and to... look at them.

Countless gazes were cast upon them from countless mirrors.

Those eyes held resentment, jealousy, longing, and madness. Like countless hands tearing at their souls.

Countless versions of Zhang Chulan appeared in Zhang Chulan's mirror.

Everyone was smiling at him, a strange, sinister smile.

"Who are you?" Zhang Chulan asked first.

"Are you Zhang Chulan?" the second question was asked.

"Are you real?" was the third question.

"Are you a fake?" The fourth question.

"Are you faking it?" The fifth question.

"You've been faking it all along, haven't you?" The sixth question.

"Pretend to be that insignificant college student, pretend to be that useless coward who only knows how to act cheap, pretend to be that softie that anyone can bully..." the seventh person said.

"What are you really thinking?" The eighth question.

"You're thinking that one day you'll make all those who look down on you pay the price," the ninth person said.

"You're thinking that your grandfather's death is related to Bao'er," the tenth person said.

"You're thinking, what would you do if that were the case?" The eleventh question.

Countless Zhang Chulans and countless questions flooded in like a tide.

Zhang Chulan stood in the middle of the mirrors, trembling all over. Each of those questions pierced the most hidden part of his heart. Those thoughts, he had never spoken to anyone, not even daring to admit them to himself. But now, these mirrors laid bare before him.

He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his flesh, and blood dripped down between his fingers.

Then he smiled.

The smile started at the corner of his mouth, slowly spreading across his entire face, and finally turning into a mocking laugh.

"You're right." He looked at his reflection in the mirrors. "I was just pretending. I've been pretending to be a coward for twenty years, it's become a habit, to the point that I've almost forgotten who I am. But so what?"

He took a deep breath, and his eyes gradually hardened.

"I know who I am. I know what I want to do. I know who I need to protect. That's enough. As for those messy thoughts... everyone has them, but thinking them doesn't necessarily mean doing them. You pathetic wretches who died here, you weren't even human anymore, what right do you have to question me?"

The eerie smiles on the faces of the Zhang Chulans in the mirror began to distort.

"As for Bao'er..." Zhang Chulan looked at the figure staring blankly in the mirror in the distance, his voice becoming very soft, "No matter who she is, no matter whether she has anything to do with my grandfather, she is still Bao'er. That's enough."

After saying that, he closed his eyes and stepped forward.

When he opened his eyes again, the mirrors around him had changed—those Zhang Chulans had disappeared, replaced by countless Xu Xiangs, smiling at him with kind smiles.

Zhang Chulan paused for a moment, then laughed, a bitter laugh.

"Grandpa Xu, please don't scare me. I know you're worried about Bao'er and me. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

He bowed to Xu Xiang in the mirror.

Then, continue forward.

Everyone else has their own experiences.

In Wang Ye's mirror, his parents, who had hoped he would become a dragon among men, had turned into two skeletons, still murmuring to him, "Ye'er, bring glory to the family... bring glory to the family..."

Wang sighed, "Father, Mother, please stop reading. My being alive is the greatest honor for our ancestors. To die? That would be truly cutting off the family line."

In Zhang Lingyu's mirror were his memories from his time with Quanxing, memories he never wanted to revisit. Looking at his younger self in the mirror, his face expressionless, he simply said, "The past cannot be changed. The future is mine to walk."

Then, he stepped forward.

In Zhuge Qing's mirror were the ancestors of the Zhuge family, each staring at him with livid faces: "The Zhuge family's unique techniques are passed down only to sons, not daughters, and only within the family. You've joined forces with outsiders and even taught them the Zhuge family's arts. How can you face your ancestors?"

Zhuge Qing laughed, a bright laugh: "Ancestors, times have changed. When Zhuge Liang created Qimen Dunjia, it was to save the world, not to keep it a secret. Besides, even if I were to teach them, they would still need to be able to learn it."

In Barron's mirror were the faces of the people he had killed years ago. He looked at them silently, without saying a word, then raised the dagger in his hand and saluted his reflection.

In Xia Liuqing's mirror were the women he had loved, hated, and betrayed in his life. He smoked, the smoke blurring his face and his expression. He exhaled a smoke ring and said, "What I owe you in this life, I'll repay in the next."

There was nothing in Feng Baobao's mirror.

It's that empty valley.

She stood there and watched for a long time.

Then, she stepped forward and walked through the mirror.

The mirror is broken.

Like glass, it shattered into countless pieces, falling to the ground with a crisp sound. In the shards, her blurry reflection was seen, along with the ever-present, faint bewilderment on her face.