"This is the mage’s library. Though the spellbooks here have crumbled to dust, a spirit still guards it. My sister left it alive to protect the staircase leading higher. That’s why the evil spirits below dare not ascend. If you touch those stairs, it will stop you."
After Aruola finished speaking, Zhang Luan studied her with a scrutinizing gaze. A trace of distrust flickered in his eyes as he asked flatly, "Anything else? Don’t spring surprises on me once we’re upstairs."
"No. And it’s not that I withheld it—you simply didn’t ask."
Seeing Aruola about to argue back, Zhang Luan waved his hand, cutting her off. "Enough. Skip the chatter. How strong is this library spirit? What level?"
Aruola blinked her pale blue eyes, thinking before replying, "My sister altered its power. It mirrors your exact level and strength—even your rank. You’ll fight yourself. Allies won’t help; it’s immune to all damage except from its own copies."
"I see."
Zhang Luan stared at the staircase leading upward. After a moment’s thought, he gripped the Ends Bow, nocked an arrow, and shifted its mode to **Crimson Sky**. Crimson electricity crackled against his wrist.
He approached the stairs and glanced back at Aruola. She floated midair, watching him expressionlessly while eating the remaining half of a boiled egg from a pot she’d carried from the previous room.
Zhang Luan abandoned any hope of her offering warnings. He stepped forward onto the staircase.
The world spun violently. Space fractured like shattered mirrors, reflecting his image from every angle. A book-shaped spirit floated above, its pages flipping endlessly—undoubtedly the library’s guardian.
Zhang Luan raised the Ends Bow and fired. The arrow curved mid-flight, arcing toward its target.
The spirit summoned a mirror before it. An identical arrow shot from the reflection, colliding with Zhang Luan’s.
"Tch. Knew it wouldn’t be that simple."
From the mirrored surfaces reflecting his form, a perfect copy of Zhang Luan slowly emerged. Its eyes were dull and lifeless. It held a replica of the Ends Bow—crude, lacking even the signature electric glow.
Gray-black Stellar Flame coalesced around the mimic, forming fireballs that hurtled toward Zhang Luan.
He didn’t dodge. With a sweep of his palm, a wall of Stellar Flame erupted from the ground, swallowing the fireballs instantly. *Its grasp of Stellar Flame is weak*, Zhang Luan noted.
He eyed the mimic’s handsome but vacant face and clicked his tongue. "Sigh. Hate to destroy such a good-looking guy."
Despite his words, Zhang Luan showed no mercy. Stellar Flame condensed into sword blades midair. He unleashed his sword art, sending them flying.
The mimic mirrored the move. Their flame blades clashed and canceled each other out—but Zhang Luan’s flames burned hotter. He switched to his favorite tactic: sprinting across the battlefield. Under the **Super Spicy** buff, his speed left afterimages in his wake.
HP drained constantly, yet the **Supreme Delicacy** buff negated the penalty perfectly.
The mimic ran too, but though it might have copied the Culinary God’s Spicy Pot, it had no time to cook. Zhang Luan outpaced it easily.
With the Ends Bow’s 100% arrow-speed buff, Zhang Luan’s shots always landed a fraction faster. The mimic’s wrist glowed too—it triggered the same effect—but mythic gear couldn’t be perfectly replicated. Its speed boost was weaker.
The battle seemed one-sided. Yet after five minutes of relentless pressure, Zhang Luan sensed something wrong.
*My HP and defenses are low. I’ve dealt enough damage to kill Yanat twice over. Why’s it still standing?*
"How much HP does this thing even have?"
He checked its battle panel. The HP bar read ???.
Either its health was immeasurably high—or infinite.
"Tch. So it’s got infinite HP? No wonder it’s lasting. Though... staring at this handsome face isn’t so bad. How to kill it... mana drain?"
He shifted the Ends Bow to **Black Moon** mode. Pitch-black electricity surged along each arrow he fired.
When the arrows struck the mimic, mana flowed back into Zhang Luan’s body. The mimic copied his tactic, shifting its bow’s form too.
Five more minutes passed. Zhang Luan had shot the mimic’s face over a hundred times—countless more hits elsewhere—yet it showed no fatigue. Worse, it grew stronger, copying his moves more precisely. Now it nearly matched his attack speed.
*This won’t work. I’ll be worn down.*
"Aruola! How do I beat this thing?"
Aruola set down her freshly brewed tea and nodded. "I know."
"Then why didn’t you say anything?! I’ve been fighting for ages!"
Her reply was unchanged. "You didn’t ask."
"Fine, fine—I didn’t ask! Spit it out!"
"Destroy the book spirit. The mimic draws power from the darkness below. Unless you unleash an attack that devours darkness completely, you can’t kill the copy. But the library spirit lacks that power. *You* have it. Erase it."
Zhang Luan made his decision. He seized an opening, drew the Ends Bow, and fired spiral arrows at the book.
Predictably, mirrors appeared before it, replicating his attack.
The instant the arrows were about to collide, the **Force of Creation** coating Zhang Luan’s arrows analyzed the space, locking onto the book’s coordinates.
His arrows bypassed the mirrored copies and struck the spirit simultaneously. Spatial ripples shattered its form; spiral arrows pierced its pages. Everything unfolded seamlessly.
Then—abruptly—the mimic’s body began radiating waves of qi power.
