Eastern Flame Sect.
Outer Disciple Courtyard.
Fifteen years old — again.
Shen Yao walked beneath the cracked stone archway leading toward the training pavilions, his feet tracing steps he had long forgotten how to take. The morning wind curled with ash-sweet spring, and distant bells chimed above the inner sect walls.
To the other disciples, he was just Shen Yao — a quiet boy from the outer sect, talented but stagnant. No background. No favors. No protection.
But behind his eyes now burned ten years of memories. Ten years of names, schemes, betrayals, and pain. Every smile he once trusted, every hand he once held — they were knives, dulled only by time.
The air shimmered as Qi drifted from morning cultivation drills. Instructors barked commands. Junior disciples bowed and formed fire seals, flames dancing like eager foxes in their palms.
Shen Yao ignored them all.
[Infernal Immortality System: Flame Root dormant. Recommend activation of Inner Flame Core before sunset.]
He heard the whisper again — not spoken aloud, but etched across the inner walls of his soul. Like a living brand in his spirit flame. The system's presence wasn't intrusive — it didn't control, didn't scream. It waited. Patient as coal beneath pressure.
He would get to it.
First, the poison.
He turned the corner into the mess hall.
It hadn't changed. Same crooked beams, soot-stained roof, scent of overcooked rice porridge and cheap flame-root broth. A long table lined the side wall — and there, as expected, sat the cup.
Small. White. Lidded. Steam rising.
Tea. The one he had drunk in his first life without question.
He remembered the day perfectly. An elder had complimented his hard work and offered him the brew. He had smiled like a fool and downed it in one breath.
Hours later, his fire veins stagnated.
A month later, he lost a promotion to Core Disciple — the first domino that led to his death.
Never again.
He walked past the table without touching it.
Behind him, a flicker of surprise.
"You're not going to drink it?"
The voice was light, feigned casual.
Elder Lu Min. A modest inner court instructor — silver beard, thin eyes, gentle tone. Most saw him as harmless. But in the Sinflame Ledger of Shen Yao's second life, his name was already carved.
Poisoner. Divine Collaborator. Soul Seller.
Shen Yao turned slightly. His voice was calm, polite — the tone of a clueless youth.
"I already drank this morning, Elder Lu. My stomach's weak today. Forgive me."
A pause then a smile.
"Of course," Lu Min said, eyes unreadable. "Careful with your health. Fire roots can cause excess heat if taken on an empty stomach."
Shen Yao bowed and walked away but inside, he had already begun kindling his fury.
[Sinflame Ledger Entry: Lu Min — Tag: Minor Traitor — Karma Burn Value: 37]
The system responded instantly to the threat avoided.
Shen Yao's lips twitched. A minor traitor, for now. But enough sparks could still start a wildfire.
He reached the training grounds just as Elder Mo began the lecture on flame techniques. Dozens of outer disciples sat cross-legged in neat rows, backs straight, eyes sharp.
Shen Yao found an empty spot near the back. He didn't need the lesson. He had already mastered everything Elder Mo would say but sitting here served another purpose: observing the faces.
Wei Lan. Zhou Ping. Yao Mei. Jin Mu.
Jin Mu.
Still just a boy.
Still wearing the same arrogant half-smile. Still pretending to be kind. Still three years away from slipping Shen Yao's name into a divine register and selling it for an Immortal's favor.
He was leaning close to another disciple, whispering something with a laugh. Probably mocking Shen Yao's absence earlier.
You were the one who handed me over.
You let them burn me while you watched.
Shen Yao didn't glare. Didn't speak. Didn't move.
He only marked the face. Filed the voice. Watched the gestures.
No justice burns colder than patience.
Elder Mo droned on about Flame Channeling Paths and the importance of stabilizing inner Qi. Most disciples listened like devout dogs. Shen Yao listened for weakness and found one.
Zhou Ping, seated two rows ahead, had a trembling hand as he formed the basic Fire Palm Seal.
In his past life, Zhou Ping betrayed the sect during the siege of the Northern Peak — revealing entry routes to divine assassins. He died trying to flee, burned alive in his own forge.
But here, now, he was still nothing.
Still uncertain and zafraid.
[Sinflame Ledger Entry: Zhou Ping — Tag: Unawakened Traitor — Karma Burn Value: 12]
Interesting.
Some seeds of betrayal were buried early. Others were planted by pressure. Shen Yao would watch who cracked and who crawled.
Not all needed to be burned.
Some could be... redirected.
Later that day, Shen Yao sat cross-legged in a shadowed corner of the Flamewood Grove. His back against the scorched bark of a training pillar. The sun hung low. Light flickered like dying embers through the canopy.
It was time.
He drew a shallow breath and focused inward. The fire Qi in his dantian was weak, like smoldering ash — but it was there.
[Infernal Immortality System prompt: Flame Root Resonance can be triggered.]
"Do it," he murmured and the atmosphere changed around him.
His core pulsed — not with heat, but meaning. The flame inside him responded to the System like a starving beast fed blood. It churned, spun, screamed — and ignited.
Not outwardly but inwardly.
His soul roared.
Visions poured through him:
— A lotus blooming in black fire.
— Chains melting in molten gold.
— A skeletal hand gripping a sun.
— A name written in ash across the sky.
And then, silence.
[Silent Flame Seed awakened.]
[Flame Root: Unique Type — Adaptive Resonance Flame]
[Affinity: Destruction, Karma, Stealth]
[First Flame Resonance Node unlocked.]
Shen Yao opened his eyes.
The grove was quiet but the air had shifted. Birds had fled, insects gone silent and even the wind had grown wary. His flame wasn't hot — but the world feared it because it wasn't natural.
It was defiant.
As he stood, a faint voice drifted through the trees.
"You weren't at the training field earlier. I waited."
Lian Xue.
He turned. There she stood — slender, serious, robes dusty from practice. A healer's apprentice, not a fighter. The same girl who had once saved him during a sect invasion… and died for it.
She looked uncertain now. Young. Untouched by fate.
He met her gaze.
"I had to handle something."
She hesitated. "You seem… different."
"Do I?"
Her lips thinned. "Less afraid."
Shen Yao smiled, faint and hollow. "Good. I don't have time for fear anymore."
She frowned. "That's not always a strength."
"It is," he said, stepping past her. "When you know what's coming."
Behind him, Lian Xue stared at the flame marks flickering beneath his sleeves.
She didn't understand yet. But one day soon, the whole sect would and then, they would either kneel or burn.