"Because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to wield my own element!" The words escaped Feng's lips in the form of a guttural scream that came from the deepest depths of her soul.

Then, ripples moved.

The liquid version of herself, thus far mocking and cruel, slowly knelt down beside her collapsed body.

Its movements were delicate now, eerily gentle. A hand made of glistening blue water reached out, patting Feng's head softly.

Then her voice suddenly transformed.

"Good girl."

The tone was far too smug, lazy, and condescending. She'd heard this tone a hundred times already.

Quinlan's.

Feng's eyes shot open. A chill ran down her spine.

"Don't you dare call me that, creature!" she hissed, swatting the hand away.

She followed it up by getting to her feet and jumping back to create space. The oriental teen's face was twisted in fury. "And stop imitating my or Quin's voices!"

The watery reflection smiled, infuriating Feng even further. "But I am you."

Her scoff came out sharp. "No, you're just a sorry imitation who copies my voice."

The figure tilted its head to the side, the movement of which formed ripples over its form. "No, that's not true. Do you think it's Rosie throwing insults your way using me as a proxy? No, of course not. That girl is far too sweet. Is it Quinlan? Nope, he would not hide behind me to lecture you. The Soul Records? We've already established that it does not care for your meager existence."

"Then…"

"When you inhaled the scent of Rosie's magical flower, I was created using your mind. I am you. I know your deepest fears, your insecurities, your train of thought. I am not just an impersonator, Feng Jiai. I am you."

Feng froze.

Her throat tightened.

"Is that… really true?"

The silence that followed was enough of an answer.

She didn't need to hear it. Every single thing this being had said so far had been cruel…

But true.

Her knuckles whitened as her fists clenched at her sides.

"Now that we're on the same page," the reflection continued, "tell me. Don't you think Quinlan is one unreasonable guy?"

"Huh?"

"You're a troubled soul," it went on. "A child he picked up in another world. He brought you over to Thalorind, dragged you away from home, and everything you knew about life. You followed after him like a puppy, afraid to be left behind. You did your very best to adjust to his life. You befriended his family. You fought alongside him."

Each word struck like a pebble against her chest. Tiny, but relentless.

"Despite him being a coward for not granting you the XP buff his wives got," it continued, tone tightening with venom, "you still worked extremely hard. You still tried to grow stronger."

The watery Feng stepped forward. The air thickened with pressure.

"So who is he," it whispered with a venomous undertone, "to suddenly decide your class is shit and that you should change it?"

Feng blinked and breath hitched.

"What gives him the right?"

The watery copy leaned close now, close enough that Feng could see her own face distorted in its eyes.

"But more importantly than that…"

It raised a single finger and pressed it against Feng's forehead.

"… Why did you rush to do just as he desired?"

The water trembled faintly where their skin should've met.

"You were ready to abandon it all because of his whims," it said, voice now almost sad. "Your foundation stood on shaky legs in Zhenwu, yes. But if you ask me…"

The figure's words sank into her, deeper than any arrow ever could.

"… your foundation in life is shaky itself."

The watery Feng's finger lingered against her forehead for just a moment longer, then it flicked.

The impact was soft. Barely a touch.

Yet the world shattered.

Feng gasped as her vision flooded with memories.

Not from her eyes, but from someone else's.

She saw herself.

A little girl, maybe eight, maybe younger, awkwardly mimicking her clanmates' stances during cultivation lessons.

She remembered that day, how she'd wanted to impress them by proving to be a generational prodigy.

But seeing it from the outside, she noticed things she hadn't before: the way she copied their every motion, every word, every little laugh. Even their speech patterns. It wasn't learning, it was mimicry.

The scene shifted.

She was older now, her eyes brighter, her grin wider. Quinlan stood in front of her, a newcomer, a mystery wrapped in arrogance.

She remembered that moment with fondness. But now, watching from outside, she saw the desperation in her own smile.

The way she leaned toward him, eager for his approval. How she tailored her words, her tone, even her personality around his mood swings and quirks.

Yes, she had been a bratty girl who made many witty remarks, but perhaps deep down, it was done toward the goal of standing out. As a memorable companion whom he will never forget. Of having a good synergy with the man who was filled with similar cocky remarks.

Before she even knew it, she matched his attitude to endear herself.

Every memory followed the same pattern: her, trying to appeal to him in every possible way.

If he liked boldness, she was bold.

If he wanted silence, she was quiet.

If he praised bravery, she ran into danger just to earn another smile.

And the more she saw, the more it hurt.

Because she had been a girl full of personality once: mouthy, proud, mischievous, a spark that burned bright and true.

But somewhere along the line, she'd let that spark be smothered by the shadow of the man she admired.

She had become a hollow reflection molded by his presence.

A girl who existed to fit in his world, not live her own.

Then the memories shifted again.

She saw herself deferring to others, to Quinlan's wives.

Always yielding. Always shrinking herself.

Always going along with the flow.

Her throat trembled. "So what…? Is it really that wrong?"

Her voice came out weak, almost pleading. "I'm just a teenager. Isn't it normal to defer to adults? To people stronger, smarter… better than me?"

But the silence that answered her carried no comfort.

Because she already knew.

It was a problem.

That was why she was here.

Why did this trial exist at all?

The truth bloomed painfully clear in her chest...

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