Within the mist-veiled forest path, the wind stilled, and the grass lay silent. Xiao Chen followed the Guide at a measured pace. At first, they walked along an ancient woodland trail, shrouded in quietude, the fog curling like silk around them. But before long, the light began to dim. The mist thickened into walls, and the ground beneath their feet hardened and cracked, gradually transforming into a tunnel enclosed by stone.
The passage seemed formed by ancient lava flows, now cooled and solidified. Its walls were dark with a faint red glow, and from the fissures, bursts of heat surged like bubbles, releasing waves of scorching air. The tunnel spanned roughly two zhang wide, with a vaulted ceiling arched overhead. Though it did not press down on them, it left no room to soar.
The Guide walked steadily, always half a zhang ahead of Xiao Chen. His steps were neither hurried nor slow, and beneath his feet, spiritual light gathered—like walking upon flowing fire, though he never truly left the ground.
Xiao Chen felt a strange heat in the air, like sunlight grown too intense. But after only a few dozen steps, that warmth surged like a tide. The once verdant aura had been scorched away, replaced by a burnt fragrance mingled with a strange metallic tang—the scent of flesh seared by flame.
Sweat beaded on his brow. He opened his mouth to breathe, only to find the spiritual energy thick and heavy, laced with rust and ash. Each breath felt like pressing a slab of firestone against his chest.
Just as he tried to inhale again, a pungent stench stabbed into his nose—a foul mix of metal and tar, like the earth before a thunderstorm, or the slag lingering in a forge. He frowned, tongue twitching, throat tightening. Then he realized—this was sulfur.
A warning from the depths of the earth. A sign of volcanic fury yet to erupt.
His heart stirred. A memory surfaced—Master Suan Wuyi's words:
"The trial of the body was never meant to prove strength, but to teach what it means to bear the weight of fate."
The phrase returned to him like a lantern before the flame, casting a sliver of clarity. He steadied his breath, suppressed the heat within, and pressed forward.
The Guide, sensing his shift, spoke calmly:
"What you smell now… is merely the gate's greeting."
He halted and turned. "This is the outer layer of the Flame Abyss. From here on, every inch of heat, every breath that burns—these are but the prelude."
His sleeve fluttered as his gaze swept toward the crimson wasteland ahead. In his eyes flickered something ancient and complex—as if he had seen too many walks through this gate, never to return.
As his words faded, the earth trembled. Flames erupted from the ground, devouring the forest ahead in a blaze of red. The sight was like hell itself… breathing.
Before the Flame Abyss, daylight lost its color. The air was thick with the scent of charred remains. With each step, the crunch of shattered bones echoed beneath Xiao Chen's feet. He gazed at the infernal landscape ahead—an expanse of scorched earth like a vision of purgatory. His brows furrowed, but he did not retreat.
Flames surged from the cracks in the ground, devouring the last traces of cool air. All around lay scorched corpses and broken bones. Lava coursed like veins across the land, and the fissures in the earth gaped like the mouths of beasts. The wind carried the scent of burned souls.
Eventually, they arrived before a towering wall of fire, several zhang high. The flames roared endlessly, cascading like a waterfall, the heat so intense it nearly evaporated sight itself. Xiao Chen halted, eyes narrowed—he could no longer see the path ahead.
Atop the fire's crest, a shattered stone stele stood defiantly. Its surface was blackened and pitted, as if scorched by ten thousand flames and eroded by time, yet it remained unyielding. Four ancient characters lingered upon it: Trial by Flame Abyss. Though the strokes were broken, they seemed etched into bone, as if countless souls had once whispered their names here.
The Guide, sensing Xiao Chen's gaze, turned slightly and spoke in a low voice:
"That stele was placed by the first person to survive the Flame Abyss, a thousand years ago. He left only those four words… and was never seen again. Some say he stepped onto the true path of fate."
"If you can carve four new words, the stele will rename itself for you."
His tone was light, yet it fell like a seed of destiny.
After a pause, he added:
"This trial does not test what you can defeat—but what you can endure. This is the foundation of fate's burden."
He stepped forward, steady and calm, approaching the wall of fire.
"This is the Abyss of Flame. Those who pass prove their bodies worthy. Those who fail… leave their bones to the fire. Whether your flesh is fit to bear fate—will be decided here."
With a sweep of his sleeve, the wall of fire parted, as if obeying divine command. A narrow stone bridge emerged, just wide enough for one person. Beneath it, lava churned, and the heat rose like the roar of dragons. The bridge led deep into the sea of flame, where the faint outline of a massive, circular structure could be seen—like a sealed arena, glowing red from within.
Xiao Chen said nothing. His gaze shifted between the bridge and the stele. Then, he drew a breath of blistering air and stepped onto the bridge.
"Fate chose me. And I… chose this path."
He whispered to himself, entering the path of flame.
As his figure vanished into the fire, the wall behind him slowly closed. The flames sealed shut, and the world fell silent. He was cut off from all else left alone with the trial that burned ahead. The Guide's silhouette faded into the firelight.
A low roar echoed from within the flames, like a beast awakening. The next trial had opened its jaws.
Red smoke coiled like serpents and dragons, the heat distorting the air into rippling illusions. Scorched corpses and shattered bones littered the ground like gravestones—epitaphs for those who had come before.
As Xiao Chen stepped into a ring of flame-marked sigils—
Boom!!
A thunderous explosion erupted from beneath the earth. In the next instant, the ground split open, and a massive claw wreathed in fire slammed down, landing just a step away!
A pillar of flame burst forth like a furious dragon's roar. The shockwave tore at his robes, nearly forcing him back half a zhang. He staggered, his back nearly brushing the wall of fire—heat licked at him like blades.
From within the inferno, a voice rumbled—low, bestial, and heavy with ancient power:
"The weak… have no right to stand before me."
Before the Crimson Behemoth revealed its form, its voice had already split the mountains and rivers. That first strike was not a greeting—it was a reckoning.
Xiao Chen charged into the Flame Abyss as pillars of fire surged toward him like dragons. He twisted midair, narrowly avoiding the blaze—yet the residual heat scorched his shoulder, flesh blistering, pain lancing through his chest.
The air reeked of burning. Flames roared behind him, threatening to consume him whole.
Then the Crimson Behemoth emerged from the inferno. Its body loomed like a hill, crimson mane billowing like living flame. Its eyes burned with molten gold—alive with fury and primal intent.
"Human?" it growled, voice rumbling like a dormant volcano. "Your breath falters… and yet you dare challenge me?"
It leapt, slamming its claws into the ground. Fire surged into a wall.
Xiao Chen rolled away, but the impact sent his blood churning. A mouthful of heat nearly burst from his throat. His steps faltered—but his resolve did not.
"Losing isn't death. Giving up is."
Flames surged, heat seared his bones. Even breathing felt like swallowing fire. Every dodge came with pain. Every breath was a trial.
But he did not retreat.
Beneath the fire, his mind remained clear. He remembered the days of survival in the wild, walking alone through mist, enduring his master's harsh training. Those hardships had never broken him—they had taught him one truth:
Don't ask if you can endure. Force yourself to see—what happens if you do.
He drew a breath of scorching air, suppressed the chaos within, and let his battle intent settle into calm. Slowly, he began to analyze the beast and the flames.
He forced his breath to steady, observing the Crimson Behemoth's rhythm—its lunges, its roars, the flow of spiritual energy behind each wave of fire. He memorized them in silence.
As time passed—one incense stick's worth—he was still being pushed back, but no longer overwhelmed. He even managed to land a punch against the beast's flank.
Within him, his spiritual channels stirred. He felt something shift—his Qi mark loosening, as if the pressure of flame had cracked a barrier. He was on the verge of stepping into the mid-tier realm.
The battle entered a deadlock. Xiao Chen's breath grew steady, his movements swift and precise. He began to weave between fire and claw, each motion deliberate.
He drew upon the techniques he had learned at the Startrace Sect, blending them with the stargazing footwork of Tianji Gate and the Windbreaking Palm. In the crucible of combat, he forged his own rhythm.
The skills he had honed through endless training now came alive—each strike, each retreat, each surge of energy more fluid than ever before. In this trial by flame, he was no longer merely surviving—he was transforming.
The Crimson Behemoth paused, stepping back with a snarl.
"You… you're using me as practice?!"
Its fury ignited. Flames boiled, hooves struck the earth, and the entire Flame Abyss trembled.
"You've got nerve!"
In its rage, the beast unleashed its full spiritual pressure. Fire surged like a tsunami.
But Xiao Chen… had already entered a state of calm.
He was not fearless. He had simply learned—how to fight within fire, how to live beneath pressure.
"Thank you… for showing me I can still grow stronger."
Xiao Chen whispered, grounding his stance. His left palm flared with light—the sigil blazed, and his aura surged.
The tide of battle turned.
The Crimson Behemoth lunged, but missed. Its tail whipped around, but Xiao Chen ducked low and countered—his fist crashing upward in a crushing blow to the beast's jaw.
"Rrraaaagh—!"
The beast roared, staggering back. The flames on its brow scattered like sparks. It stared at the human youth—bloodied, battered, yet standing tall. His eyes were sharp as blades, and the sigil on his palm shone like a morning star.
"You… you've never fought in real combat… and yet under my claws, you forged a killing strike…"
The beast growled, its voice tinged with disbelief.
Xiao Chen said nothing. He stepped forward. Spiritual light burst from his body, and his fists roared like thunder.
This time, he wasn't defending.
He wasn't adapting.
He was attacking.
"—Haaah!!"
His fist tore through the fire, piercing the core of the beast's flame-bound chest.
The Crimson Behemoth shuddered. For a moment, the entire Flame Abyss fell silent.
Then—boom.
The beast collapsed to its knees. The flames around its body flickered and dimmed, leaving only a faint glow of spiritual embers circling its limbs.
It lowered its head, voice deep and tinged with the pride of a beast king—and a warrior's respect:
"I, the Crimson Behemoth, do not yield to the weak. You walk out of this Flame Abyss… with my recognition."
It raised a claw and sliced through the air. The fire parted. At the far end of the sea of flame, a gate of light slowly opened.
"…Go, fate-defier. The trials ahead… won't be as 'reasonable' as I am."
It watched Xiao Chen step toward the path ahead, though its heart remained unsettled.
This one… his potential is unfathomable. A body of ten sigils, refined mid-battle… If we meet again, I may not be his equal.
With that, the beast lowered itself to the ground, eyes closing in silence.
Xiao Chen bowed, fist to palm, and nodded slightly. As he turned toward the gate of light, he spoke softly:
"Thank you… for not striking to kill. Had you not held back, I might not have made it this far."
He could feel it—every blow had been measured. Not out of mercy, but out of respect. Respect for his potential… and for the sanctity of the trial.
The Crimson Behemoth cracked one eye open and snorted.
"Hmph. That wasn't mercy. It was the trial. If you couldn't endure… you weren't worth killing."
Xiao Chen smiled faintly, said no more, and stepped toward the gate.
Bathed in firelight, his silhouette was steady—silent as a mountain.
And just as he crossed the threshold, a voice echoed from the depths of the air, low and resonant, as if spoken from the far side of the void:
"Trial of the Flame Abyss—cleared."
It was the Guide's voice. Unseen, yet ever watching—like the eye of fate itself.