The air trembled.
Not from spiritual pressure, but from something far deeper—something ancient, something raw.
As Lin Xun stood in stunned silence, the void pulsing around the slumbering figure, the man lying within the jade-etched coffin slowly exhaled a breath of condensed flame that crackled with divine resonance.
Eyes opened.
Not mortal eyes.
Eyes like eternal stars, rimmed in black flame and shadowed by centuries of suppression. They pierced through space, time, and the soul.
Lin Xun's knees nearly buckled.
Even with his cultivation, even with the fusion of Frost and Flame within him, even with his will tempered by blood, betrayal, and breakthrough—he could not withstand that gaze.
The man inside the coffin sat up slowly, his long black hair tumbling over his shoulders like a river of night. His robes shimmered with seals—faint inscriptions of a sect that hadn't existed for thousands of years.
"...Lin Xun," the voice rumbled, ancient and familiar.
It was like thunder whispering through a forest at midnight. A paradox. A storm caged in silence.
Lin Xun opened his mouth to speak, but words abandoned him.
The man's gaze softened.
"You carry her flame," he said.
Those few words shattered the fog in Lin Xun's mind.
"You knew my mother?" Lin Xun finally rasped.
The man chuckled, voice ragged from eons of slumber. "Knew her? She was my sun. My flame. My curse. My salvation."
Lin Xun stepped forward. "Who are you?"
There was silence.
Then the man turned his palm.
The air cracked. Space rippled. A sigil of flame and frost emerged from his skin—one identical to the mark that had branded Lin Xun when he first put on the ring.
"I am your father, Lin Yanjie," the man said. "Former Flame Sovereign of the Twin Reversal Sect. Betrayed by the Three Pillars, sealed by the Council of Origin… and forgotten by time."
The name crashed into Lin Xun like a mountain falling from the heavens.
Lin Yanjie.
A forbidden name.
The Flame Sovereign who vanished centuries ago. Branded a traitor. A heretic. A destroyer of balance.
Dead.
At least, that's what the world believed.
"You… you're not supposed to exist," Lin Xun murmured.
"I don't," Lin Yanjie said, smiling bitterly. "Not in the world as it is. Only in the world that was."
There was pain in his eyes. Loss. Madness barely held at bay.
"But you awakened me, Xun'er. You—who carry the perfect dual core. You—who survived where others perished. You—who inherited both my curse and your mother's dream."
Lin Xun dropped to his knees.
Not from fear.
From gravity. The sheer, unbearable weight of truth.
He was the son of a Sovereign.
A hunted prince in a world built on false histories.
A child born not of shame, but of rebellion against the heavens.
"I thought I was just trash," he whispered. "A mistake. A cursed existence."
"You are a threat," Lin Yanjie said. "To those who control the narrative. A sword they cannot hold, so they try to bury it in shadows."
Lin Xun's hands clenched.
All the years of humiliation. All the moments of doubt. All the loneliness.
They weren't signs of weakness.
They were proof of what he truly was.
"Your path," Lin Yanjie continued, "has only begun. But you are not ready for what lies beyond."
"I will be."
The words came out before Lin Xun realized he had spoken them.
Lin Yanjie tilted his head. "You'll need strength. Allies. Enemies. Trials that will break you ten thousand times."
"Then I'll rise ten thousand and one."
There was silence.
Then Lin Yanjie reached into the air—and space tore itself apart.
A jade scroll materialized, humming with runes that twisted the very flow of qi in the cave.
"This is the Nine Tribulation Reversal Art," Lin Yanjie said. "My legacy. My sin. My hope. Master it… and you'll command the forces that sealed me."
Lin Xun's hands trembled as he took it.
"Why now?" he asked. "Why awaken now?"
Lin Yanjie's expression darkened.
"Because they know you live."
Suddenly the cave trembled.
Lin Xun turned sharply.
A rumbling echoed through the ground—followed by the stench of burning wind and crushed bone.
"They've found you," Lin Yanjie said, standing. "The Three Demon Envoys. Sent by the Skyweaver Temple. They want the blood of the Flame Sovereign—and the child who bears his light."
"How strong?"
"Soul Ascendant Realm."
Lin Xun paled.
He was barely at early Core Forging. Even with all his recent breakthroughs, the gap was astronomical.
Lin Yanjie's eyes glowed. "Time to test the edge of your flame."
He waved his hand—and Lin Xun vanished.
—In another location—
Lin Xun landed hard on cracked stone, breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled and came to a halt at the base of a ruined spire, surrounded by ancient bones and shattered weapons.
A voice echoed in his mind.
> "This is the Trial Arena of Sovereigns. Conquer this place. Survive. And your core shall be reborn."
The scroll in his hands shimmered and floated before him.
It unrolled—revealing the first stance of the Nine Tribulation Reversal Art:
> [First Flame: Rebellion of the Mortal Cage]
A technique that allowed a cultivator to absorb spiritual energy beyond their stage temporarily—by burning their own lifespan.
A suicidal move.
But Lin Xun smiled.
He had no intention of living a long life.
Only a powerful one.
He stepped into the center of the arena.
The sky darkened. Flame beasts crawled from fissures. Bone constructs with heavenly inscriptions formed from scattered relics.
The trial had begun.
The first creature, a Bonefire Hound, lunged with fangs dripping molten marrow.
Lin Xun didn't retreat.
He raised both palms—and fire and frost danced together.
> "Come."
The entire arena trembled.
Flames shaped into spears. Frost condensed into armor around him. He moved like a god ascending from mortal roots.
The battle began.
Hours passed.
He fought.
And bled.
And burned.
He pushed his dual-core to its limits, forcing Flame and Frost to cooperate—seizing moments where their contradiction birthed power.
Again and again.
Until nothing moved but him.
Smoke filled the trial ground. Ash fell like snow.
Lin Xun stood alone, body charred, eyes glowing with faint black fire.
The scroll flared—and the first tribulation mark etched itself into his soul.
> [Nine Tribulation Reversal Art – Stage One Unlocked.]
Strength surged through him.
He fell to his knees.
Not from weakness.
But from the dawning realization:
This was only the beginning.
And yet, it was already too much.
Then a sound echoed through the air.
Clapping.
Slow. Mocking. Elegant.
A figure emerged from the shadows of the trial gate.
A young man dressed in white robes embroidered with dragons—his aura vast, but controlled.
"Impressive," the stranger said. "Even I struggled here, and I'm the top outer disciple of the Skyrect Sect."
Lin Xun raised his head.
Skyrect Sect.
The name struck something in his mind. A name his father had spoken of in the past. A sect powerful enough to rival the ancient empires.
"You're not from here," the man continued. "And yet, you survived. Who taught you the Nine Tribulation path?"
Silence.
Lin Xun's eyes narrowed.
"You'll tell me," the man said. "Or I'll carve it from your bones."
He raised his hand.
The heavens shifted.
And Lin Xun smiled.
Because at last, the path forward had appeared.
A sect.
A battlefield.
A rival.
And the doorway to becoming a legend.
He rose to his feet, pain singing in his veins.
"I'll join your sect," he said.
The man blinked.
"But only to crush it from the inside."
The air snapped with tension.
And destiny laughed.