The dawn arrived pale and weak, as if even Heaven recoiled from what was about to take place.
Within the secluded Crimson Bamboo Court behind the inner disciple dorms, morning mist clung tightly to the bamboo stalks like lingering spirits. Usually, the grove was forgotten — a place for quiet sparring or meditation. But not today.
Today, there would be blood.
Shen Yao stood at the court's edge, arms folded, his expression unreadable. His black-crimson training robes were plain yet sharply cut, heat pulsing faintly from the seams — not fire, but disciplined inner flame. His gaze swept the grounds with unfeeling calm.
Off to the left, three outer sect disciples huddled near a stone bench, whispering. At the far end of the clearing stood another group — this one led by a face from a past life.
Zhou Liang.
The "friend" who had also betrayed him.
Tall, confident, with a sword strapped to his back and a charming grin, Zhou Liang was flanked by half a dozen loyal hangers-on. One casually scraped a blade against a bamboo stalk, leaving a fresh mark.
Zhou Liang waved. "Yao-ge, you actually came. I was starting to think you'd forgotten our morning meet-up."
Shen Yao didn't respond.
In his last life, this moment had gone differently.
He had trusted Zhou Liang. Called him brother. Practiced sword forms in this very court. That trust had cost him dearly — a broken core, poisoned meridians, and a divine curse that burned his soul.
But this time, he remembered.
He hadn't come to spar.
He had come to cut the first thread of betrayal. One of Zhou Liang's lackeys stepped forward. "You really wanna do this, Shen Yao? I heard your cultivation's been stuck. Barely made it to Qi Condensation."
Zhou Liang chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll take it easy on him. Just a friendly match, right?"
"No," Shen Yao said at last, voice soft but heavy enough to kill laughter.
"It won't be friendly."
Zhou Liang and his lackeys were stunned.
Even the birds stopped chirping.
Zhou Liang blinked. "What?"
"I challenge you," Shen Yao declared, stepping forward. "Duel. No interference. Just you and me. Life or death."
Gasps echoed around the court.
"He's crazy!"
"That's Zhou Liang! Inner Sect material—"
Zhou Liang's smile twitched. Then he smirked. "You're serious?"
Shen Yao said nothing. He drew no sword. Kept his hands at his sides. But the moss beneath his feet darkened — heat rippling outward. Zhou Liang narrowed his eyes. "Alright. You want to die that badly? I'll oblige."
A referee stepped up. "Per sect law, a blood duel may proceed if both parties—"
"I agree," Shen Yao cut in.
Zhou Liang nodded. "So do I."
The referee hesitated. "Very well. Life-and-death duel. Witnessed by the disciples of Eastern Flame Sect. Begin."
Zhou Liang struck instantly.
Swift and clean. Flame-enhanced footwork propelled him forward, sword slashing to end things in one brutal move.
The same move he had used in the previous life but now, Shen Yao was ready.
He twisted his foot — and vanished.
Not retreating.
Disappearing.
Void Ash Step.
The movement burned through Qi like wildfire but left behind only a flicker — a ghost of Shen Yao standing in place. The real Shen Yao appeared behind Zhou Liang like a silent curse.
His palm ignited not with roaring flame but a quiet, suffocating heat — like what fills a crematorium.
Cremation Palm.
It hit Zhou Liang square in the back.
He screamed — not from pain, but fear.
His sword flew from his hand. He dropped to his knees. His robes smoldered from the inside. Qi pathways lit up and darkened. Veins blackened beneath the skin.
"W-What did you—what kind of flame is this—"
He coughed blood.
Shen Yao walked forward, slowly. "The kind that doesn't forgive."
One of Zhou Liang's cronies started toward him, but Shen Yao turned.
He didn't raise his hand.
He didn't flare his aura.
Just killing intent.
The kind only someone who lived a second life could possess — a life meant to erase men like Zhou Liang.
"Please—Yao-ge—we are brothers—!"
"You drugged my pills," Shen Yao said quietly. "Sold my meridian scrolls. Traded my secrets for a marriage into the outer sect."
Zhou Liang turned pale. "I—I didn't mean—"
Shen Yao knelt beside him.
"It took me ten years to uncover it. Too late, back then. But now…"
His palm rose, fingertips glowing orange.
"…I can fix that mistake."
Fsshhh— The Silent Flame consumed Zhou Liang's core.
No more screaming.
Just steam rising. Burning bamboo behind them. Stillness.
Shen Yao stood and turned to the watching crowd.
"One warning," he said. "Plot against me, and you'll burn."
Zhou Liang's friends averted their eyes.
The referee cleared his throat, shaking. "Victor… Shen Yao."
No applause.
Only silence.
And the heavy truth settling over them all — something had returned to the sect.
Something ancient.
Something made of ash.
Zhou Liang's body slumped forward, steam curling from his blackened dantian. The air thickened — not with force or pressure but with conviction.
Cold, sharp and irreversible.
Shen Yao didn't boast. Didn't monologue. He looked at the corpse of the man who, in another life, had started his fall — and made sure this time, the door to his downfall stayed shut.
He turned to leave but before he took three steps, footsteps echoed.
A white-robed elder entered the court. A wine gourd swung at his side.
Elder Tan.
He scanned the scene — corpse, bamboo, disciples.
"Well," he sighed, sipping his wine, "looks like it's one of those weeks."
The crowd stayed silent.
Tan eyed Shen Yao for a long moment. He wasn't strong — mid Cinder Vein, at best — but he had a nose for sect rot.
He opened his mouth, paused.
Then said, "Clean this up. Quietly. If the Zhou Clan complains, I'll handle it."
Shen Yao didn't respond.
Tan raised a brow. "You an idiot, or something worse than that boy?"
"I'm someone who remembers," Shen Yao replied.
Tan blinked. "...Ah."
They stared at each other for a moment then Tan finished his wine. "Get lost. If you survive long enough to make Inner Sect enemies, come see me. I've got names."
Shen Yao gave a short nod, then walked away.
Behind him, whispers rose.
"Did you see that flame? It didn't even make sound—"
"Silent Flame? I thought that style was banned—"
"No. It wasn't just silent. It was cold."
Zhou Liang's name was scratched off Shen Yao's list.
Not for glory. Not for vengeance alone but to clear the way forward — one flame at a time. By dusk, Shen Yao returned to his quarters. His robe was still scorched. Dried blood clung to his sleeve.
He didn't clean it.
Let them talk.
Rumors were kindling.
Soon, they'd be fire.
He sat beneath the glow of a soul-lantern, fingers resting on the floor, breath steady.
The Infernal Immortality System stirred.
Not with speech but with a low, warm thrum behind his ribs.
[Karmic Enemy Eliminated: Zhou Liang]
Flame Resonance Slightly Increased.
Path Ahead: Cleared.
Shen Yao exhaled.
This was just the beginning.
Next came the assassination — in his first life, it had been quiet, quick, disguised as a spar.
This time, he was ready.
He would rewrite every line of the fate that once destroyed him and with it, light the first spark beneath Heaven's noose.