Di Jiang clearly had not expected her to be cursing him in her heart while kneeling so effortlessly. His usually expressionless face showed a rare trace of confusion. After a long pause, he finally spoke in a slow, measured tone.

“What did you do wrong?”

Le Gui was caught off guard by the question. She hesitated for a long time before squeezing out a response.

“…I was too slow climbing the mountain and made Your Lordship wait too long.”

[My real mistake was not bringing a few firearms with me when I transmigrated. I should have just taken you out, you old bastard.]

“Transmigrate” and “firearms” were both unfamiliar terms to Di Jiang. He remained leaned against the black iron throne, his outer robe a deep violet, the inner layer a rich red. The soft fabric draped over him in gentle folds. His slender fingers rested against the vividly colored cloth, making his pale skin appear even more striking.

“What else did you do wrong?”

[Oh, so this is about settling old scores?]

Le Gui struggled for a while before finally steeling herself.

“…I was wrong to leave my quarters that night at Bi’an Terrace and disturb Your Lordship’s meditation.”

Di Jiang raised a brow. “Oh?”

“…But I had my reasons.” Le Gui summoned her courage to meet his gaze, her face full of sincerity.

Di Jiang’s voice remained indifferent. “What reasons?”

Le Gui cleared her throat. “W-Well… I was already in bed, ready to sleep, when I heard something outside my door. I got up to check and saw my senior sister sneaking out. I was afraid she might do something reckless, so I had no choice but to follow her. Before I knew it, I had ended up at Bi’an Terrace.”

[Sorry, Senior Sister. To save my own life, I have no choice but to pin this on you.]

The curve of Di Jiang’s lips deepened. “So, you’re saying you entered unintentionally and had no ulterior motives?”

“Ulterior motives? What ulterior motives?” Le Gui feigned innocence. “My respect for Your Lordship is as vast as the mountains and seas. As long as the rivers flow and the land endures, my admiration for Your Lordship will never wane. How could I possibly harbor any ill intentions? That night, I only wanted to stop my senior sister. I had no intention of disrespecting Your Lordship in any way.”

Di Jiang’s gaze remained unreadable. “Really?”

[Of course not. Do I look like someone who would run after someone in the middle of the night, chasing them halfway up a mountain, just for fun? Obviously, I went to Bi’an Terrace to seduce you, charm you, and sleep with you!]

Suddenly, Di Jiang let out a soft chuckle.

Le Gui felt a chill run down her spine, but she kept up her act. “Of course, it’s true. My loyalty to Your Lordship is as clear as the heavens and the earth!”

[My expression is sincere enough. My words are heartfelt. He should believe me now, right?]

Di Jiang’s response was calm yet unwavering. “I don’t believe you.”

Le Gui: “…”

“But,” he continued, a faint smirk playing on his lips, “you can prove yourself.”

Le Gui tensed up. “…How?”

[What proof? There are no security cameras here. How am I supposed to prove anything… Oh, right. There’s always the Heart-Seeking Technique.]

“Heart-Seeking Technique.” A glint of light flickered in Di Jiang’s eyes, sharp and dangerous like a serpent’s.

Le Gui hadn’t expected him to actually suggest it. She immediately stiffened. “I… I don’t mind if Your Lordship uses the Heart-Seeking Technique on me. But if you do, how will I continue to serve you afterward?”

The human mind is deep and unfathomable, a truth that holds even in a world of fiction. No matter how powerful a cultivator is, they can never fully discern a person’s thoughts—unless they forcibly pry into them using the Heart-Seeking Technique. This technique was a domineering and ruthless spell. Those subjected to it were either left dead or reduced to an empty husk. There were almost no exceptions.

“Time will reveal my sincerity. I will be serving in Diyun Peak from now on. Even without the Heart-Seeking Technique, I am certain that given time, Your Lordship will see my unwavering devotion!” Le Gui spoke with growing fervor, desperate to protect her life.

[Come on, just agree already. I don’t want to be discarded like a one-time-use tool!]

Di Jiang studied her for a long moment before nodding. “You’re right.”

Le Gui: “…” Huh? That easy?

A sudden gust of wind swept through the grand hall. Without thinking, she instinctively crouched and covered her head. The wind died down just as quickly as it had risen. Realizing her reaction had been a little too dramatic, she hurriedly stood up—only to find that the vast hall of Cangqiong Palace was now completely empty.

“Your Lordship?” she called out softly.

No response.

She raised her voice slightly. “Your Lordship.”

Still, silence.

[Wait… He just left me here? What am I supposed to do now? Should I find my quarters first or figure out my job duties? Your Lordship, isn’t this a bit too irresponsible?]

Though relieved to have escaped unscathed, Le Gui was now plagued by uncertainty. She glanced around, trying to spot someone who could clarify her position. Just then, as if sensing her confusion, the floating bronze mirror in the hall gleamed faintly.

“Little girl.”

Le Gui jolted. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me. Look up.” The voice was rough and low, yet it tried to sound gentle and amiable.

Le Gui spun around twice before finally spotting the floating bronze mirror above.

A moment ago, the mirror’s surface had been blank. Now, a wisp of pale violet demonic energy coalesced, forming the shape of a sunflower. Le Gui blinked in surprise. “Oh, it’s you, Seer Mirror.”

“You know me?” The sunflower swayed slightly.

Faced with what was likely her future… colleague? The new recruit of Diyun Peak, Le Gui, was quick to flatter. “Who in Wuyou Palace doesn’t know of the legendary artifact ‘Seer’—a mirror that knows all? To be honest, I recognized you the moment I stepped in.”

Di Jiang and the Seer Mirror—Le Gui could only describe them as the twisted versions of the Evil Queen and her even eviler Magic Mirror.

According to the novel, this mirror truly was all-knowing. As long as one was willing to pay the price, it could provide any answer.

The problem lay in that price.

The Seer Mirror had no scruples about its transactions. It would trade with humans, demons, gods, and ghosts alike. It accepted anything as payment—spiritual power, magical artifacts, gold, silver, even one’s lifespan, soul, or memories. The cost it demanded always far exceeded the value of the information it provided. Here, a dollar could only buy ten cents’ worth of knowledge. Yet countless people, driven by obsession, kept coming back for more, until they were left with nothing—not even their own souls.

[In short, this thing is bad news.]

But despite its sinister nature, the sunflower seemed to enjoy compliments. It swayed happily before speaking again, still trying to sound friendly. “Little girl, you seem confused. Do you have a question you wish to ask?”

Le Gui shivered slightly and took a step back. “Nope. I’m good. Nothing to ask.”

“Don’t be absurd. No one goes through life without doubts.” The sunflower on the mirror flickered, dissolving into a swirl of demonic energy before reforming. “Whatever answers you seek, I can provide. Speak freely, and I will help you find your path.”

A path… Did that mean the path home?

Le Gui had pieced together information from her own experience and the novel’s original setting to deduce that Wuliangdu might be her way back. But she wasn’t entirely sure if her plan would work. The Seer Mirror, however, was truly omniscient. Maybe it could confirm things for her.

Even though she knew the mirror had ulterior motives, the thought of returning home made her waver. Slowly, she took a hesitant step forward.

“Come, little girl. Ask your question,” the Seer Mirror urged.

Le Gui blinked sluggishly, then reached out toward the mirror.

“Yes, just like that. Come closer.”

The moment her fingertips brushed against the surface, ripples spread across the mirror. The sunflower expanded excitedly, its voice still low and coaxing. “What is it you wish to know?”

“I want to ask…”

Just as the words left her lips, clarity struck her like a lightning bolt. Her mind snapped back to reality. She tried to pull her hand away, but it was too late. She was stuck, as if the mirror had latched onto her.

Rage flared within her. “You’re trying to manipulate me!”

“I did not deceive you. I merely amplified the desires within your heart.”

The transaction between them was now established. It was no longer up to Le Gui to back out, even if she wanted to. The sunflower’s voice no longer carried that forced gentleness. Instead, it wriggled impatiently and urged, “Hurry up and ask your question. Once you’re done, hand over your soul. Let me see what’s so special about a mere mortal like you.”

“…Are you so certain that the answer I seek requires a soul trade?” Le Gui countered.

The sunflower let out a cold laugh. “Whether or not your soul is required is up to me to decide!”

[This is outright robbery!]

Le Gui kept a calm expression, but inside, she was panicking like an ant on a hot griddle. The transaction had already begun, leaving her with no way out. Asking a question would cost her soul. Not asking would mean violating the transaction’s rules. Her soul might be intact, but the mirror would still have the right to take her life.

…Either way, I’m dead!

“Have you decided on your question?” the sunflower pressed.

Le Gui clung to her last shred of hope. “I was personally assigned to serve at Diyun Peak by His Lordship himself. If you kill me, aren’t you afraid of making him angry?”

“Do not mention him to me!”

The sunflower erupted in fury, its surrounding demonic energy surging violently. “One day, I will drain his spiritual power, devour his soul, and grind his body to dust!”

[…Looks like the venomous Evil Queen and the even more venomous magic mirror don’t get along too well.]

The eerie demonic aura made Le Gui involuntarily shiver.

“You still haven’t thought of a question?” The sunflower quickly regained its composure. “I’ll count to three. If you haven’t asked by then, it means you’ve broken the contract—”

“Can’t I have time to think?” Le Gui widened her eyes.

The sunflower ignored her plea. “One… Two—”

“Wait—”

“Three!”

“How much is the service fee percentage when recharging Jinjiang Coins through the iOS system?!”

Le Gui squeezed her eyes shut in fear.

One second… two seconds…

There was no clock in this world, but Le Gui could almost hear the tick-tock of time passing. After a long silence, she cautiously opened one eye. She found that she could move again. The sunflower, which had been acting like an arrogant villain moments ago, had disappeared. The mirror’s surface was now covered in what looked like distorted ripples, similar to digital static.

“Ai… O… Ai… S… channel… Jinjiang Coin… service fee…”

The ripples flickered erratically, repeating the same words over and over.

Le Gui hesitantly poked at the mirror. It showed no reaction, still muttering the same fragmented words.

[Did… did it just crash?]

Looking at the malfunctioning Seer Mirror, Le Gui was now certain that its “all-knowing” ability was limited to the novel’s world. Anything outside of that was beyond its comprehension.

[Damn, good thing I took the gamble and didn’t ask anything related to the novel. Otherwise, I’d be the one crashing right now.]

Letting out a sigh of relief, Le Gui glanced around the grand hall. The place was filled with chaotic piles of magical artifacts, and not far away, a green slime was now croaking out, “The blue-faced Dou Erdun stole the imperial horse!”

Realizing this was no place to linger, she quickly made her way toward the exit.

“Ai… O… Ai… S… Ai… O… Ai… S… What is Ai… O… Ai… S…?”

Just as she reached the doorway, she paused and turned back to look at the lone mirror floating in midair.

It had failed to answer her question, its mind seemingly broken. Now, it almost looked… pitiful.

Le Gui pursed her lips. After scanning the room and confirming that no one else would come to help, she let out a sigh and walked back toward it.

[My biggest flaw is that I’m too soft-hearted.]

After some careful coaxing and a bit of repair work, she smoothed down her slightly disheveled hair and quietly slipped out of the hall.

Up in the grand hall, the green slime’s singing gradually weakened as exhaustion set in. Just as it was about to fall asleep, a sudden burst of pure spiritual energy shot out from nowhere, piercing straight through its gelatinous body.

The slime let out a miserable shriek, trembling as it struggled to regenerate. It then mustered all its remaining strength and screeched, “The blue-faced Dou Erdun stole the imperial horse!”

Amid the off-key singing, Di Jiang, dressed in a flowing long robe and barefoot, stepped through the hall cluttered with magical artifacts. Those very same objects that had once been obstacles for Le Gui now obediently shifted out of his way, clearing a straight path for him.

He walked leisurely until he suddenly halted at the center of the hall. His gaze dropped to the Seer Mirror lying on the ground.

“Ai… O… Ai… S… Ai… O… Ai… S… Master…”

Inside the mirror, the battered sunflower whimpered pitifully. “You must avenge me! That little brat from Hehuan Sect beat me… Wuwuwu…”

Before it could finish its sobbing plea, Di Jiang stepped directly onto the mirror and walked past.The Seer Mirror: “……”