Shen Jin's knees slammed into the fractured steps, the impact lost beneath the roar of collapsing stone, his entire body buckling as if the weight of the sky itself had been lowered upon his shoulders. In the hollow of his palm, the Seal burned with a heat that was not of this world, not the heat of mortal flame but the suffocating scorch of iron dragged from the core of a furnace, a brand meant not to illuminate but to sear body and soul alike. Every tremor of its weight pressed down on him until he thought his bones would split; indeed, he could hear them, hear his own finger joints crackle and groan, as if one more breath would be enough to shatter him into fragments.
And in the choking fog of the moment, the memory came back, sharp as steel cutting through flesh.
The battle at Ningyuan Court.
The Seal had erupted then of its own will, its breath of power tearing open half a domain, its inscription force shattering the spell chains of the Five Sects, breaking apart the arrays of the Lingyuan Council as though they had been made of paper soaked through with rain. He had stood amidst it, not its master but its hostage, watching that tide of authority crush everything around him, knowing even then it was not his hand that had moved but something far older, far more terrible, a will beyond his own. That memory was burned into him. That power did not belong to him. And yet—here, against the dreambeast's maw of fire and bone, it was the only chance left to survive.
He dragged a breath into scorched lungs, felt the taste of ash rise to his tongue, bitter, metallic, vanishing before he could swallow. Every inhalation was fire pressed against his chest, every exhalation tore at his ribs like knives, but he forced his vision steady, forced his mind to narrow until the entire world collapsed into the trembling stone tablet that seared his palm.
The Seal throbbed once, then again, each pulse like the beat of a heart buried beneath mountains, answering him though he had no right to ask. A glow began to seep across its surface.
Fire-born lines rose from the stone's face, crawling across his palm, burning themselves into his flesh as though inscribing him rather than being held. The light did not simply shine; it raged, a violent flare that promised to turn his arm to cinder. For an instant, the Seal felt transformed, alive, not a relic but a weapon, a pen sharpened to a killing point, a sword that spoke in silence, a furnace unquenched since the dawn of time, its essence straining not to serve but to rewrite the laws that caged the world.
He lifted his right hand.
The arm shook as though weighed with chains, but he forced it higher, every muscle trembling under the agony, until the Seal hovered above him. From its core, a strand of fire bled outward, following the motion of his arm, tracing through the air.
And the heavens halted.
The mist boiled backward, pages of grey unfurling in every direction, chains of symbols dangling like broken calligraphy waiting for ink, the sea of dreamfire that had filled every horizon suddenly beaten back by an unseen pressure, leaving open a space of expectation.
Shen Jin held his breath, teeth clenched hard enough to draw blood, and pushed.
The Seal's weight surged into his hand, its light flaring into a line drawn across the void.
Thunder cracked. The world lurched.
The wasteland of burning bones, the mirrored labyrinth where Qinghan fought, both split and wavered as if cut down the center, dreamfire itself shuddering as if it had been forced into obedience. He felt his soul wrenched taut, his body unmoored, every fragment of spirit pulled into that single motion, every drop of blood flaring as ink to trace the mark.
Across the sea of mist, the line deepened, sharp strokes gathering into the shape of an ancient character. Not yet whole, and yet the Seal moved without him, fire-lines pouring from its heart, filling the gaps, dragging the word into being.
禁.
The shadow of the glyph hovered, half formed, the air screaming around it.
And in that heartbeat—everything stopped.
Dreamfire froze mid-leap. The Bone-Scorching Breath recoiled upon itself, congealing, the world suspended in the silence of the inscription.
Luo Qinghan staggered back, her mirror in hand humming, its glass surface blazing with liquid light, her eyes wide, every line of her face struck with shock at what she saw.
And then the glyph cracked.
The symbol, still unfinished, burst like brittle parchment thrown into a pyre. The searing lines crawled up Shen Jin's arm flared and snapped, turning inward, his flesh suddenly nothing but tinder. The mist surged in, hungry, swallowing the fragments. Fire-seeds scattered, glowing for an instant before winking into nothing.
His throat seized, blood rose, he choked and spat crimson that hissed into steam as it struck the burning Seal. His whole body jolted, the backlash a storm inside his bones. The Seal writhed like a living beast, struggling against his grip, its weight thrashing as if it sought to hurl itself free. His hands shook uncontrollably.
From the fog came Mok'er's laughter.
It was not laughter as men knew it but a storm of bone-grinding, the snapping of joints multiplied ten thousandfold, an endless shriek that rang like broken glass. The sound tore through heaven and earth, at once sobbing and roaring, madness given form.
"Ha… ha ha ha… nameless thing… how dare you try to inscribe… you do not even know your own name, and yet you would carve the dream with the Seal…"
The voice came broken, a chant of nightmare syllables, yet each word struck like a hammer on Shen Jin's chest.
His vision spun. "Nameless one." The phrase sank like a needle of steel into his mind, piercing the very core of him. His lungs dragged ragged breaths, his arm blazing with chaos, the fire-script crawling like serpents, unraveling, snapping across his skin with no control left.
Lou Qinghan surged forward, mirror raised.
The glass flared, concentric ripples expanding outward, the light folding into a shielded circle. She drove the mirror into the air before them, its surface spilling waves of brilliance that pushed Mok'er's nightmare voice aside, enclosing Shen Jin and herself within a fragile pocket of light. Her eyes flicked once to him—blood on his lips, body shaking—but her words were for the beast alone, her voice sharp as the edge of winter.
"Enough."
Mok'er tilted its skull, one side bone aflame, the other a torrent of dreamstuff writhing in shapes too grotesque for thought. Its laughter did not cease; it deepened, as though the mockery itself was sustenance.
"You think the Seal is a pen? You think you can write the dream? You don't even know who you are, and you would presume to carve law itself…"
Shen Jin ground his teeth, the taste of iron filling his mouth, every vein in his arm bulging. The Seal scorched against his palm, a sun too close to flesh, burning marrow itself. He tried to lift it again, tried to force its weight upward, but the arm trembled violently, his pulse galloping beyond rhythm, his meridians scorched dry as if the blood itself had turned to dust. Even a fist would not close beneath that agony.
And still the dreamfire swelled.
The mist rolled, tongues of fire dragging bone-breath with them, the world warping under their heat. Mok'er's immense form loomed in the fog, silent now, its presence heavier than words, watching like an executioner too patient to strike.
Shen Jin closed his eyes, the noise of blood in his ears louder than the roar of the mist. His chest heaved, breath uneven, and in the dark of his own thoughts came the whisper: If I am nameless, if the Seal is not mine, then with what can I stand against this?
His hand convulsed. The fire-script slithered between his fingers, alive, conscious, a thousand tiny serpents writhing for release. He felt it—felt the cold hand behind the Seal, a will that was not his, grasping his bones as though he were no more than a vessel.
And Mok'er sensed it too.
The laughter dropped to a low murmur, ancient and strange, a tone that almost feigned pity, but beneath it lay the pull of the abyss.
"Write my name… and I will show you the truth."
The words fell like stones into silence.
The Seal shuddered violently in his grip, fire-lines bursting outward, searing his palm until the flesh split, blood dripping, hissing as it met flame, the stone fighting to wrench itself free.
Shen Jin's eyes snapped open, the whites bloodshot, his gaze burning crimson, and with all that remained he clamped down, forcing the Seal against his will, holding it bound. He knew now, with a certainty that hollowed him, that this was not his power.
Around them, the mist howled, dreamfire surging again, the ash-path collapsing stone by stone. His breath was ragged, his body faltering, but still he clung to the Seal, though his hands were nothing but blood and smoke.
Beside him, Lou Qinghan's mirror burst with brilliance, light flooding outward, her gaze hard, unwavering. She said nothing, only turned her wrist, sending a torrent of mirror-light forward, carving a narrow passage through the fire, encasing him in its shelter.
And Mok'er threw back its skull and roared with laughter, a thunder that split the fog.
"Nameless one! You do not even know yourself!"
The cry reverberated through the broken world, endless, deafening.
The dreamfire surged, the bone-breath gathered, pressing from every side.
The nightmare closed in again.