The Bloodvine Marshes exhaled mist and malice, their waters thick with the rot of centuries. Li Tian's Sky Shrikes circled overhead, their keen eyes piercing the fog as the party trudged below. Xia's healing qi coiled protectively around the group, neutralizing the marsh's toxic spores, while Renshu's hammer crushed the skeletal remains of creatures that slithered too close.
"This place reeks of death," Yan Mei muttered, her dagger slicing through a vine that snapped at her throat. "If Elder Ming survived here, he's either mad or a monster."
Li Tian's star-flecked eye glowed, piercing the gloom. "Or both."
A low, resonant hum vibrated through the air. The marsh stilled—insects silenced, waters calmed. Then the earth erupted.
Vines thicker than temple pillars burst from the mire, ensnaring two scouts and yanking them beneath the sludge. Before the others could react, a figure emerged atop the writhing greenery. Elder Ming, his skeletal frame draped in moss-cloaked robes, regarded them with eyes like tarnished jade. A reed flute hung from his cracked lips, its melody commanding the marsh itself.
"Turn back, Primal Bastion," he intoned, the vines hissing in unison. "This swamp tolerates no lords."
Li Tian stepped forward, the Primal Core's light cutting through the mist. "We're not here to rule. We're here to fight the ones who do."
---
**The Trial of Thorns**
Elder Ming's laughter was a dry rustle. "Fight? You reek of desperation and decay." His flute twirled, and the vines surged.
Li Tian's corruption flared, blackened veins pulsing as he seized a vine mid-strike. Primal energy devoured the plant's essence, reducing it to ash. "I don't need sermons. I need allies."
"Allies?" Ming's flute paused. The marsh stilled. "The last 'ally' I trusted wore Flame Emperor robes. He burned my sect's grove to cinders."
Xia's healing qi brushed against the ancient cultivator's aura. "We've all lost to their fire. Help us ensure no one else does."
Ming's gaze lingered on Li Tian's corrupted arm. "That artifact is killing you. Why let it?"
"Because it's the only weapon I have."
The flute lowered. "Follow. Or drown."
---
**The Heart of the Marsh**
Elder Ming's sanctum was a cathedral of living roots, its walls pulsing with bioluminescent fungi. Shelves of petrified wood held scrolls older than the Primal Core, their inks forged from extinct beasts' blood. Ming gestured to a stone basin filled with murky water. "Look."
Li Tian peered in. The liquid rippled, revealing visions—Flame Emperor battalions massing at the Obsidian Spire, Stormpeak airships arming lightning cannons, Nightblade assassins poisoning wells in distant villages.
"The Accord prepares a final strike," Ming said. "Your Veil will shatter beneath their combined might."
"Unless we shatter them first," Li Tian countered.
Ming's finger tapped the basin. The vision shifted: the Primal Core, whole and radiant, embedded in the chest of a figure whose face was lost to shadow. "The Core was never meant to be a weapon. It's a *seed*. The Magic Emperor sought to cultivate a new realm, free of sect greed. But he planted it in barren soil—his own ambition."
Li Tian's corruption throbbed. "And now?"
Ming's hand hovered over the basin. The water boiled, revealing the Bastion's villagers training with wooden swords. "You've tilled the soil. Now let me teach you to sow."
---
**The Pact of Root and Flame**
Elder Ming's terms were simple: sanctuary within the Bastion, access to his ancient texts, and a vow. "When the Accord falls, the marshes reclaim their land."
Li Tian clasped the old cultivator's wrist. "Done."
The marsh shuddered. From its depths rose a retinue of vine-golems, their bodies woven from thorns and rot. Ming's "gift."
---
**The Bastion Transformed**
Elder Ming's arrival electrified the village. Within days, his golems reinforced the Veil's lattice with living vines that hissed at approaching enemies. His scrolls unveiled forgotten techniques—earth qi channeled through song, poison distilled from moonlight.
But tensions simmered.
"You let that relic fester in him?" Ming hissed at Xia, cornering her in the relic chamber. He gestured to Li Tian, who trained villagers in the square below, his corrupted arm igniting practice dummies with black flame.
Xia's qi flared defensively. "We didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." Ming produced a vial of iridescent sap. "Extract the Core, and I can slow the corruption. But he'll lose its power."
Xia stared at the sap. "He'd never agree."
Ming's smile was bitter. "Then you choose: his life, or your war."
---
**The Storm on the Horizon**
At dusk, Li Tian stood with Ming atop the Veil. The horizon flickered with distant Stormpeak lightning.
"They come within the week," Ming said.
Li Tian's star-flecked eye narrowed. "Let them."
Below, the village buzzed with newfound hope. Farmers practiced qi strikes, children wove protective sigils, and Ming's golems patrolled the perimeter.
Yet as Li Tian descended, the Core pulsed—a warning, or a lure. The Hollow Star's whisper slithered through his mind:
*"You think him a savior? He prunes you for harvest."*
---