The spiritual energy glass dome of the finals arena suddenly ripples, distorting the clear image of the audience into overlapping shadows. Lin Ye stands in the waiting area, his heartbeat thunderous—not from nerves, but from the three spiritual patterns resonating within him, like strings of the same lyre playing a battle song only he can hear.
"They changed the rules," Su Tang's voice comes from the tablet, uncharacteristically grave. "The finals venue is switched to the 'Spiritual Vein Resonance Field'—said to test the 'divine chosen' qualification."
Ajiu leans in sucking a lollipop, Shadow Raven patterns dancing at her fingertips: "Divine chosen? Didn't the league founder say this was just a competition?"
Xiaotao's bracelet suddenly burns hot, the deep blue light of the Starmoon Meteorite reflecting in her glasses: "Look at the stands."
Lin Ye looks up. The spectator seats are "vanishing"—not emptied, but separated by a transparent barrier, leaving only the front VIP section. There sit the league founder, Old Jin, Chen Zhuo, and a strange man in a golden mask, his spiritual pattern core glowing coldly on his knee, its patterns identical to the Heaven-Burning Beast's dark golden scales.
"Welcome to the true finals," the founder's voice echoes from all directions. "Three years ago, Lin Ye's spiritual vein surge made us realize: the essence of spiritual pattern competition was never about victory." He lifts his suit to reveal dark golden chains coiling around his calf—identical to the Heaven-Burning Beast's chains from the third underground floor. "Spiritual veins need guardians, and you are the 'symbiotes' chosen by patterns."
The arena floor splits, revealing the rotating spiritual vein core below: a golden mist swirling with patterns matching Lin Ye's core. Images surface in the mist: three hundred years ago, seven spiritual pattern users anchored themselves to seal the surging Heaven-Burning Beast with their cores; two hundred years later, the eighth guardian died from vein exhaustion, and the beast began to awaken; ten years ago, the founder discovered Lin Ye's patterns resonated with Su Li's core, thus orchestrating this "divine selection game."
"So... every league accident, every spiritual vein surge—all to make our patterns resonate?" Lin Ye's voice shakes.
"No." The founder's mask slips, revealing a face seven parts similar to Chen Zhuo's. "To fully awaken the Heaven-Burning Beast. Only by devouring enough cores can it regain ancient power—the key to maintaining vein balance."
"Bullshit!" Ajiu's Shadow Raven patterns surge, black shadows slicing the air like blades. "You used Su Li as fodder and us as pawns!"
The founder smiles. He raises his hand, and chains of light mist from the vein core lunge at Lin Ye: "Su Li volunteered as a vessel, knowing only your bond can harness the beast's power. Now, accept the Divine Oath to become new guardians—or be devoured by the veins."
—
The battle erupts without warning.
Chains pierce Ajiu's left shoulder. She grunts, her swarm of Shadow Ravens raining down on the founder. Xiaotao's bracelet blazes, the Starmoon Meteorite drawing a defensive array that the chains shatter with ease. Lin Ye's Burning Heaven patterns burn along his arm, golden flames engulfing the chains—only for the chains to consume the flames, searing his skin.
"This isn't ordinary pattern attack!" Lin Ye grits his teeth. "It's the vein's own will!"
The founder's mask resettles, his voice mingling with the vein's hum: "The vein needs Su Li's core, and Su Li needs your blood. Merge, let the Heaven-Burning Beast's power fill you—else you'll all become vein fodder."
Lin Ye's core burns hotter. He feels something crawl into his mind from the earth—Su Li's memories: three hundred years ago, she stood before the vein core facing the same choice. Her partners merged, becoming vein slaves; she stole a half-core, seeking a third way.
"Xiaotao! Ajiu!" he yells. "Take my hand!"
Xiaotao and Ajiu exchange a look, grabbing his wrist simultaneously. Three patterns activate in unison: Starmoon's deep blue, Shadow Raven's dark purple, Burning Heaven's gold—intertwining at their joined hands into a new design: a blooming lotus inscribed with "Rebellion."
"We refuse to be vessels!" Lin Ye's voice pierces the roar. "Patterns are partners, not tools!"
The vein core's mist trembles violently. The founder's mask cracks, spiritual vein chains erupting from his body to crush their joined hands. But the Rebellion pattern glows gold, reducing the chains to ash on contact.
"Impossible... For three hundred years, none have resisted the veins..." The founder's voice fades.
"Because we're not alone," Su Li's voice rings from within Lin Ye. Her phantom rises behind him, divination patterns warm gold. "We are three—Rebellion, partners."
The vein core's mist softens. It ceases attack, instead melting into their patterns, branding each wrist with a new mark: a Starmoon Meteorite encircled by dark gold scales, a Shadow Raven wrapped in dark purple patterns, a bracelet coiled in golden flames.
"This is..."
"Spiritual Vein's Approval," the founder's disembodied voice echoes. "When guardians master power through bonds, veins cease to be shackles..."
—
As the finals whistle blows, the arena's spiritual energy glass clears. The spectator barrier dissolves, cheers flooding in like a tide. Lin Ye holds his spiritual pattern core—it glows warm, no longer a cold vessel, its surface swirling with the intertwined patterns of the three.
"You knew," he says to Chen Zhuo.
Chen Zhuo nods, eyeing the new marks on his wrist: "Three years ago backstage, I saw Su Li's core. It was waiting for you—for a partner to make it shine."
Xiaotao tugs his sleeve, pointing to the stands. In the front VIP row, the league founder smiles at them, the malice gone from his eyes behind the mask. Old Jin raises his camera, framing their overlapped patterns refracting a rainbow in the sun.
"Now what?" Ajiu asks.
Lin Ye looks to the sky. Since the vein core merged with him, he senses the city's spiritual patterns pulsing like fireflies dancing in the clouds—warm, bright.
"To more places," he says. "To show more that patterns aren't weapons, but bonds."
He raises the core, golden flames dancing across it, reflecting Xiaotao and Ajiu's smiles.
"Team Rebellion," he grins, "next destination—"
"Continental Spiritual Pattern Exchange!" Xiaotao and Ajiu chorus.
The arena lights dim. In the dark, their three patterns glow as one, weaving a golden light brighter than any flame.
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