The Fire Realm had always been a land of eternal flame, where scarlet skies met molten earth and the phoenix clan soared above seas of burning clouds. Yet even here, in the heart of endless fire, the brilliance of the realm dimmed when the old Phoenix Queen passed away.
Her funeral pyres blazed for seven days and nights, flames so bright that mortals in far-off kingdoms swore they saw streaks of gold across the heavens. On the eighth day, her daughter ascended the throne.
Feng Jiu stood upon the jade steps of the Phoenix Palace, crowned with a diadem of golden feathers that shimmered like living fire. Her robes flowed with a brilliance that no mortal eyes could behold for long, and in that moment she was every inch the sovereign of her people—dazzling, untouchable, the embodiment of the phoenix's eternal majesty.
Yet beneath that splendor, her body trembled. Her life force flickered within her like a candle at the mercy of the wind. Each breath was pain. Each heartbeat drained her strength. Few, if any, could see past the radiance to the truth—that she was holding herself together by sheer willpower alone.
But she could not fall. Not yet.
Her heart whispered only one name. Taiyi.
The man who had once walked beside her through trials that had torn gods and demons apart, who had shouldered storms for her sake—where was he now? Did he still remember her?
Foreign monarchs and emissaries lined the golden halls that day, seeking to bind the Fire Realm to their kingdoms through marriage. The most daring among them was none other than the Heavenly King himself. He descended wrapped in robes of silver and purple, his crown a blaze of divine light, his every step echoing with celestial authority. To refuse him was to risk insulting the heavens themselves.
Yet when he declared his intent to take Feng Jiu's hand, the Phoenix Queen did not bow her head.
Before the gathered envoys, before her ministers who trembled at the enormity of the moment, she raised her gaze. Her voice, though quiet, carried to every corner of the hall.
"Your majesty," she said, steady as steel wrapped in silk, "I belong to no man but to fate itself."
A silence heavier than mountains fell. Shock rippled through the court. The Heavenly King's expression darkened, yet even he could not force her hand. For behind her, the Eternal Flame roared, and to challenge her will was to challenge the fire that burned since creation.
Still, her refusal was a spark cast into the tinder of the realms. News spread like wildfire, whispered from kingdom to kingdom: The Phoenix Queen has rejected Heaven itself.
And as her eyes drifted past the golden hall to the endless horizon, they were not filled with pride or triumph. They were distant, yearning, as if searching for a single figure across the boundless skies.
---
Far below, in the mortal world, fate began its next weaving.
In the Qin Kingdom, the palace erupted with cries of both pain and joy. The emperor, Qin Wushuang, rushed into the birthing chambers as the first cries of a newborn rang out. A boy, red-cheeked and fierce, fists clenched as though ready to grasp the world.
His mother, Queen Luo, cradled him with weary arms, her voice tender despite her exhaustion.
"Our son… Tai Jian. He will be the pillar of our kingdom."
Qin Wushuang looked upon the child with tears glistening in his eyes. He was not a man easily moved, yet something about the boy struck deep into his soul. It was as if he were staring at destiny itself.
That very night, the palace astrologers reported strange omens. Stars shifted, clouds split to reveal a lone crimson star blazing in the heavens. They bowed and declared:
"This child will grow to bear the weight of mountains. He will guard the realm as its shield."
And so Qin Tai Jian was named.
---
On the same day, across the border in the Heaven Battling Kingdom, tragedy and miracle walked hand in hand.
A daughter was born to the favored third concubine, but her mother perished in childbirth. The newborn emerged with a faint scarlet glow upon her brow—a phoenix mark, delicate and strange, like fire etched into flesh.
The concubines whispered. The ministers muttered of curses and ill fortune. "A demon-child," they hissed behind closed doors. "A calamity in human form."
Yet the emperor of Heaven Battling Kingdom strode into the chamber, his steps heavy with grief for his lost consort. He looked down at the babe who blinked up at him with wide, unknowing eyes. For a moment, silence held him. Then, with hands that trembled, he lifted her high.
"My daughter," he said, his voice breaking but resolute. "My Hongchen. Though your mother is gone, you are my blood. Let the world curse if it dares. You are my pride."
And he named her Tie Hongchen—Red Dust. A name to bind her to the mortal world, yet carrying the weight of transcendence.
---
The years unfurled like rivers winding through valleys.
Qin Tai Jian grew into a youth whose stature dwarfed his peers. He trained with relentless discipline, wielding his blade until calluses bled and reformed. At the age of sixteen, he stepped onto the battlefield. By twenty, he was the youngest general in Qin history, leading armies with a calm presence that made him seem immovable, unbreakable—like Mount Tai itself. Soldiers called him the War God of Qin.
Across the border, Tie Hongchen grew beneath the shadow of whispers. Children mocked her phoenix mark, courtiers avoided her gaze, and nobles prayed she would fade into obscurity. But Hongchen never yielded. She trained her body until every strike of her spear tore through doubts, until her name silenced ridicule.
On the battlefield, she was a tempest of crimson fire, her phoenix mark burning brighter the fiercer she fought. Victory after victory cemented her as the pride of the Heaven Battling Kingdom—the War Goddess who carried her nation's hope.
---
And so, when the Qin Kingdom and Heaven Battling Kingdom clashed once more, the two prodigies finally met.
For two long years, their armies clashed and retreated, only to clash again. And always, at the heart of the storm, Qin Tai Jian and Tie Hongchen found each other.
Their duels became legend.
Whenever they crossed paths, the battlefield seemed to hold its breath. Soldiers stopped to watch, awed and fearful, as sword and spear met in a blaze of sparks. Their movements were fluid yet unyielding, each strike a clash of will as much as steel.
Though countless blows were exchanged, not once did either land the killing strike. Some said it was skill. Some said it was hesitation. But others—whispering in hushed tones by firelight—claimed it was fate.
On nights after blood-soaked battles, Tai Jian often found himself staring at the horizon, remembering the fire in her eyes. And on her battlements, Hongchen too would recall the man whose blade never wavered, whose gaze bore no hatred—only recognition.
Their rivalry became the song of the land, their names etched together in rumor and prophecy.
"This is not merely war," the scholars said. "This is destiny."
---
Far away, in the Fire Realm, Feng Jiu's flames dimmed.
Alone in her palace, she sat before the Eternal Flame, her breath shallow, her body trembling with each passing day. She had waited so long for Taiyi's return, her heart clinging to hope like a drowning bird.
But even as her strength waned, she felt the weaving of threads far beyond her reach. Two souls, bound not by chance but by design, were rising in the mortal realm.
The phoenix queen closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered into the fire:
"If our story cannot continue… then let theirs begin."
And thus, the age of the War Gods dawned.
---