The sun rose behind them like a dying ember, casting long, wavering shadows over the ruins of Gravemist Bridge. The air was dense with the scent of scorched spiritwood, but ahead… a different energy pulsed.
Orlan City.
It wasn't built to welcome saints.
It was a beast with no master—a city carved from rebellion, greed, forgotten martial arts, and outlawed knowledge. Cultivators with twisted Qi, shadow assassins, rogue alchemists, weapon merchants, spirit slaves—everyone walked here, but no one walked free.
Luan, Kei, and Linari entered through the East Gate under cloaks, unnoticed… for now.
---
Their goal?
To rest.
To recover.
To blend in.
But Orlan City had other plans.
---
Within the first hour:
Kei got into a sword-measuring contest with a 6'9 ex-cultivator named Ox-Jaw (and somehow won).
Linari was almost sold into a slave auction when her flute got mistaken for a legendary artifact.
And Luan? He simply stared at a black crystal in a street vendor's stall… and it cracked under his gaze.
The vendor screamed:
"Demon! Shadow soul! Someone stop him!!"
Half the street drew weapons.
Luan's black fire sparked.
But before things exploded—
A whisper.
A blade.
And silence.
The man who had screamed… was gone. Only ashes remained.
A woman in a black mask stood beside Luan. Her voice cold as starlight.
> "You shouldn't burn things… unless you're ready to watch them burn."
She walked away.
And just like that, the whole market froze. Even Orlan knew when to step back.
Luan stood there, fists clenched. Something about her—her energy—felt familiar. Not like family. Like a warning left behind in a dream.
---
That night, in a borrowed inn room:
Linari slept.
Kei snored like a bear.
Luan stared at the ceiling.
And the shadow-self stirred again.
Its eyes opened slowly within the sea of consciousness.
> "That woman," it said.
"She's from the Forgotten World."
Luan's heart stopped.
> "She knows you.
Or rather… she knows what you will become.
Don't follow her. Not yet."
Then silence.
And for the first time… Luan felt fear—not of his enemies.
But of himself.
---
The next day:
A secret invitation slid under their inn door.
No name. No seal.
Just two words etched in blood-red ink:
> "Black Ember."
Kei looked at it and laughed.
"Sounds like a shady cult."
Linari didn't laugh. "It's a challenge. A test. This city… it doesn't invite nobodies."
---
Later that night, in the underground of Orlan:
They entered a dimly lit arena made of bone and flame. Hundreds watched from the shadows. Cultivators. Mutants. Outlaws.
A voice echoed from above:
> "Tonight, we test the fireless boy.
No Qi. No core. No future.
Let's see if black flame is anything more than a rumor."
Luan stepped into the circle.
He didn't blink.
His first opponent?
A cultivator at the Spirit Gate Realm.
Hundreds of levels above him.
No chance.
No logic.
But black fire doesn't follow rules.
The battle was brutal. Explosive. Pure chaos. The man used storm-style techniques, thunder fists, sky dashes. But Luan—he flowed like shadow.
At the climax—he whispered a phrase, instinctively:
> "Ashes to origin."
And the black fire formed wings.
The man disintegrated.
Not from heat.
From fear.
The crowd didn't cheer.
They bowed.
Not in respect.
In survival.
---
As Luan stood there, breath steady, eyes glowing, he didn't notice the masked woman watching from the highest balcony. Her hand clutched a jade pendant shaped like a flame.
She whisper
ed:
> "You've awakened… too soon."
---
Chapter End.
Want Chapter 9?
Because now the elite clans of Orlan want him.
But someone from the Forgotten World… wants him dead.
Soon it will be published