The Fourth Gate did not open with sound.
It simply ceased to resist.
As Zhu Yan stepped through, the world shifted—not with the tremble of stone or surge of flame, but with the stillness of a breath held too long.
He found himself inside a chamber unlike any before it.
There were no walls.
No ceiling.
No floor.
Just a mirrored void, infinite in every direction, reflecting only himself.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Thousands of Zhu Yans—all watching back with unreadable eyes. Each one different: some clad in royal robes, others in chains; some burned and scarred, others pristine like scholars or saints.
But none of them smiled.
> "This is not a test of strength," came a voice—his voice—from all around.
> "This is a test of sovereignty."
> "You burned the world behind you. Now… what will you rule ahead?"
He moved forward.
So did all of them.
But one—just one—lagged.
Zhu Yan turned. That version of him… wore a sect uniform. Carried a sword with both hands. His eyes were soft. His shoulders bent. Hesitant.
> "That… was me," Zhu Yan muttered.
> "No," the reflection replied. "I still am."
The chamber trembled.
The Mirror of Command did not demand sacrifice.
It demanded decision.
> "To rule oneself is the greatest burden," said another reflection, this one with crimson eyes and a crown of bones. "We are the war you wage every time you hesitate."
The thousands stepped forward again.
Closing in.
Not to fight.
But to fuse.
---
Zhu Yan's heart pounded—not from fear, but weight. Each version of himself represented a path: one ruled by grief, another by hatred, one of peace, and even one of nothingness.
To command the Wrathfire… he had to choose who would sit on the throne of his soul.
He took a breath.
Stepped into the center of the mirrored realm.
And he spoke—not with fire, not with anger, but with clarity.
> "I am Zhu Yan. I am flame, but not chaos. Wrath, but not ruin. I burn not for revenge—but to illuminate."
> "No crown will bind me. No past will chain me. I command myself."
---
The chamber pulsed.
All versions froze.
Then bowed.
A single throne rose behind him—crafted from obsidian flame and rooted in light. On its surface, the Wrathfire sigil shifted—now symmetrical, complete.
He sat.
> 「Fourth Gate: Mirror of Command – COMPLETE」
Flame governed. Self unified. Path stabilized.
---
Zhu Yan opened his eyes.
Back in his physical body.
But something was different.
His aura no longer lashed wildly.
It circled him—like orbiting stars, dancing under his will.
His flames no longer screamed.
They obeyed.
And the Manual whispered:
> "Command is not control over others… but dominion over self."