The wind had changed.
By dawn, the storm that had raged across the Stormspire had died into a hush. Only the faintest traces of thunder still echoed across the peaks, and the sky had settled into a pale lavender. Li Shen stood at the mountain's edge, his cloak whipping gently around his legs, and gazed out toward the southern horizon—toward his next destination.
Master Yuwei's fragmented map, discovered hidden in a scroll case beneath the altar, had pointed to a place lost even to the oldest histories of the Five Celestial Clans: The Vermilion Hollow.
Located beyond the Emberbrush Forest and nestled within the crevices of Mount Xianlu, the Hollow was said to be the last known resting place of the Phoenix Manuscript—a legendary technique lost during the final collapse of the Ancient Sect of Vermilion Flame. It was not a place of mere ruins; the Hollow was whispered of in fearful tones by traveling monks and lone wanderers. They claimed it was a place of buried fire, where the mountain still breathed and old spirits wept in tongues of cinder and ash.
And Li Shen would walk into its heart.
Three Days Later – Emberbrush Forest
The forest lived up to its name.
The trees here were unlike any Li Shen had encountered—towering redwood-like sentinels, their bark scorched black by past wildfires, yet their canopies burned a vivid crimson, as if lit from within. The underbrush was thick with briars that bled red sap when cut. The air was warm, filled with the scent of smoke and spice, and every bird call seemed to echo strangely, as if the trees themselves listened.
Li Shen moved cautiously through the forest, his steps light, his senses alert. The Whispering Blade remained sheathed, humming faintly against his back. Something watched him. He could feel it. Not malicious, but curious—testing.
As twilight fell, the ground began to rise. The forest thinned, and the trees gave way to jagged stone ridges and blackened cliffs. At last, Li Shen came upon a canyon cut deep into the earth, its walls veined with glowing red fissures. Heat rose from the depths, dry and acrid. At the bottom, an arch of obsidian jutted from the earth like the rib of a buried beast. It was marked with ancient fire runes.
This was it.
The Vermilion Hollow.
Crossing into the Hollow
The descent was treacherous.
Using narrow switchbacks carved by time and forgotten pilgrims, Li Shen descended into the canyon. The deeper he went, the hotter it became. Soon his robe clung to him with sweat. The rocks beneath his feet glowed faintly, and small fires flickered spontaneously from cracks. It felt as though the mountain itself was exhaling.
Then came the voices.
Not words—just breathy murmurs, disjointed phrases that brushed the edge of thought:
"...flame unbound..."
"...they danced upon the pyres of gods..."
"...she burned... we all burned..."
Li Shen paused at the base of the canyon. Before him stood the remnants of an ancient temple, half-sunken into the molten earth. Columns blackened by soot jutted upward like the bones of giants. In the center was a stone gateway, and within it, a single burning brazier still flickered with phoenix-fire—gold and crimson, eternal.
As he stepped through the threshold, heat licked at his skin—not painful, but purifying, like walking through memory. The stone under his feet changed. It bore symbols of the Vermilion Flame Sect: firewheels, phoenix wings, and the Five Heavens Spiral.
He knelt and brushed away the ash from a central rune. The inscription read: "Trial of Flame. Walk with fire or turn away in shadow."
Then the chamber roared to life.
The Trial of Flame
Fire erupted from the walls in coiling serpent shapes. The flames did not spread like normal fire—they slithered, weaved, and watched. One lashed out toward Li Shen, but stopped just short of touching him. The heat pressed against his face like the breath of a living creature.
Then a voice echoed—clear, female, ancient.
"Who seeks the flame that burned the gods?"
Li Shen stepped forward. "I am Li Shen of the Hollow Wind Clan. I seek the truth of the Phoenix Manuscript."
Silence.
Then laughter—low, melodic, sorrowful.
"You seek power from ashes. But what will you burn to claim it?"
Without warning, a wall of flame surged forward. Li Shen leapt back, drawing the Whispering Blade. But steel could not cut fire.
He closed his eyes. Walk with fire, or turn away in shadow.
So he did not dodge. He stepped into the flame.
And it did not burn.
Instead, it flowed over him like water, washing through his limbs. He felt his spirit pulled into another space—like a memory not his own.
A Vision of the Past
He stood in a grand hall of gold and obsidian. Before him, hundreds of warriors in vermilion robes knelt as a woman with burning eyes and a crown of flame raised her arms.
"The gods have abandoned us," she declared. "So we become our own fire. Burn away the old ways. We rise as phoenixes, unbound."
It was the High Matron of the Vermilion Flame Sect.
Li Shen watched as she inscribed the final stroke of the Phoenix Manuscript onto a scroll glowing with living flame. But even as the hall glowed with power, Li Shen saw shadows coiling at the edges—envy, ambition, betrayal.
The fire that should have saved them consumed them instead.
And then the vision ended.
Return to the Present
Li Shen collapsed to his knees as the flames receded. The air had cooled, and the brazier's light was soft now. Before him lay a cracked pedestal—and on it, a single piece of scorched parchment sealed within a crystal case.
The Phoenix Manuscript. Or what remained of it.
He reached for it slowly, reverently. The case opened with a faint sigh, and the scroll pulsed with warmth in his hands.
But even as he held it, the whisper returned:
"You saw what power did. Can you master it without becoming what they became?"
Li Shen didn't answer aloud. But his grip on the blade tightened.
He had seen the ashes. Now he would carry the flame forward.
Not as a god.
But as a man walking through fire.