The air was unusually heavy as Cael Dren and Derick moved through the outer corridor of the Skysunder Clan's inner sanctum. Derick kept his head low, his steps quiet, yet his thoughts raced.
A demon wants to see me? Why?
The messenger had arrived without warning—a Spirit Pulse Realm demon dressed in crimson robes, bearing the clan's inner emblem. He had spoken no more than a sentence to Cael: "The Iron Courtyard. Midnight."
Now, hours later, Derick walked behind his master through the winding path of silence.
They arrived at the Iron Courtyard, a secluded chamber built deep into the mountainside. It was a place reserved for private exchanges—used only by those who wished not to be overheard.
There, waiting alone in the middle of the vast stone courtyard, stood the crimson-robed demon. His eyes glinted in the dim lantern-light, and his presence oozed cultivation—restrained but unmistakable.
"Master Cael," he greeted calmly, voice smooth like oiled stone. "And the boy."
Derick tensed slightly but held his ground.
"You summoned us," Cael said flatly, arms folded.
The demon gave a small nod. "Indeed."
Then something strange happened.
His demonic aura vanished.
In its place… came human Qi—steady, clear, and powerful.
And before Derick's wide eyes, the demon's form shifted.
The horns faded. The crimson skin became pale. The fiery eyes softened into a deep, stormy gray. In seconds, a human stood in the demon's place, dressed still in the same robes but radiating a distinctly human presence.
"Impossible," Derick breathed. "You're… human?"
The man smiled. "Very much so."
Cael's eyes narrowed. "Disguise technique?"
The man inclined his head. "A forbidden one, learned in the ancient courts of the Eastern Rebellion Sect. It fools most demons... as long as their cultivation isn't higher than mine."
Derick stepped back cautiously. "And your realm?"
"Core Formation. Low level. The same as the Patriarch. But far below him in mastery."
Cael's expression darkened slightly. "Reckless. If you were discovered—"
"I'd be executed on the spot," the man finished calmly. "Yes, I know. But this meeting is worth the risk."
The man turned to Derick. "You don't know me, but I've been watching you."
Derick tensed, unsure of what to say.
"You've grown fast. Too fast for a slave. Even one under Cael's guidance. Which is why they fear you. And him."
He shifted his gaze to Cael. "I was there. In the Jade Hall, the night they met."
Cael's expression shifted.
"You witnessed it?"
"Yes," the man replied. "They plan to remove you before the tournament ends. Before you become something they can't contain."
Derick clenched his fists. "Remove him?"
The man nodded. "They fear you'll build a foundation—train others. Humans with power and discipline are a threat to demon rule. You've served them long enough, they say. And the boy?" He looked at Derick. "They think you're a match waiting to ignite."
Cael was silent for a moment. Then: "Why tell us this?"
The man smiled, eyes suddenly sharp.
"Because I'm part of something greater. A network. A resistance embedded across demon clans. Humans—free cultivators—hiding in plain sight. Watching. Waiting."
Derick's heart skipped.
"We call ourselves the Hidden Flame."
Cael's brows rose. "I've heard whispers. I thought it was legend."
"Most do," the man said. "But we exist. We've infiltrated fifteen clans across the Southern and Eastern Regions. Our mission is to prepare for the return of human sovereignty. We don't move rashly. We don't expose ourselves. But you…" He looked at Derick. "You've accelerated things."
"I didn't mean to—" Derick began.
"No. That's the beauty of it," the man interrupted. "You are the unexpected variable they couldn't predict. A young cultivator rising too fast for their systems. They'll come for you, Derick. And when they do, it'll be through your master."
Cael's eyes flashed.
"And I'll be ready."
The Core Formation expert stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Here's what we propose."
He laid a simple jade stone on the ground. With a flick of his fingers, images began to project—paths, maps, key points within the Skysunder Clan.
Derick watched in awe.
"These are weak points. Guard posts. Supply lines. Secret storerooms. Every clan has a rhythm. If you disrupt that rhythm at the right time… everything collapses."
"You've mapped it all?" Cael asked.
"Over years. The Skysunder Clan is not as unshakable as they believe."
The man turned to Derick. "We don't act now. We prepare. You focus on your cultivation. Grow faster. Stronger. Draw attention—but only what we allow."
"Until the tournament?" Cael asked.
"Yes," the man said. "After the tournament ends, we initiate Phase One. Internal chaos. Supply sabotage. Artifact seals. Communications severed. Then Phase Two—when their foundation cracks, you strike."
Derick swallowed. "We'll be outnumbered."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps. But we will not be outwitted."
"Who else is with you?" Cael asked.
"Too many to name," the man said. "Some humans, some hybrids. A few sympathetic demons—very few. But in this region alone, four other Core Formation cultivators like me serve undercover. All are waiting for the moment."
"And what of the Patriarch?" Derick asked.
The man's expression hardened. "He's the biggest threat. Peak Core Formation Realm. Close to breaking into Soul Sea Realm. If he ascends… we may never touch him."
Cael nodded grimly. "So we act before he does."
The man gave a tight smile. "Exactly."
Derick stepped forward. "How do I know we can trust you?"
The man turned to him with a curious glint. "You're right to ask."
Then, with a motion, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a crystal shard—dull gray, but humming faintly.
"This is a Memory Imprint Crystal. My life. My face. My real name. You'll see it all."
He handed it to Derick, who held it cautiously.
"When the time comes," the man said, "use it. If I've betrayed you, it will reveal the truth."
He paused.
"But I haven't."
The man straightened. "This meeting never happened. If you speak of it, we all die. But if we move carefully, strike precisely… then for the first time in a century—humans may rise again."
He looked at Cael one final time.
"You've been alone too long. It's time we fight together."
With that, he activated his disguise technique once more. His body shimmered, shifting back into the demon form—a crimson-robed elder with curved horns and glowing eyes.
Without a word, he turned and vanished into the night.
Derick stood in stunned silence, holding the memory shard.
Cael exhaled slowly.
"We've crossed the threshold, Derick," he said. "There's no turning back."
Derick nodded, his gaze fierce.
"Let's burn the roots of tyranny. From the inside."