The fire inside Tian Rui wasn't just burning—it was alive.
It clawed its way up his spine, whispered through his blood, and surged from his fists in a dazzling burst of heat that cracked the earth beneath his feet. The relic on his chest pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, its light no longer golden but a deep, shifting crimson. Not rage. Not chaos.
Purpose.
His attackers faltered, confusion flashing behind their bone masks.
"Too fast," one murmured. "He's syncing already. That's not—"
Tian Rui didn't wait.
He became motion.
With a thunderous step, he closed the gap between him and the tallest of the three—a brute wielding a hammer the size of a boulder. The hammer came down, aiming to split him in half. But Tian Rui twisted, sidestepped, and drove his palm forward with explosive force.
Boom.
The man flew backward, smashing into a bone pillar. It cracked like brittle ice.
The second attacker came from above, blades curved like crescent moons. Tian Rui's eyes caught the reflection of her movement in the shine of his own relic mark. He didn't see—he knew. As if her path had already been drawn before her strike ever came.
He spun, catching her ankle mid-air and slamming her to the ground. The earth shook.
She didn't get back up.
The third stepped forward—calm, collected, confident. She pulled back her hood.
A girl.
Lyen.
Sharp jawline. Eyes like a frozen lake. There was no fear in them. Only... judgment.
"You're not special," she said evenly. "You're just fast."
Tian Rui didn't respond.
They moved at the same time.
Lyen's strikes came like rain—fast, precise, relentless. Tian Rui barely kept up, blocking with arms lit in fire, retaliating with bursts of force that threw dust and ash into the air.
Each clash echoed through the valley like thunder.
But something was wrong.
As their battle dragged on, Tian Rui started hearing things—not whispers, not like before.
Thoughts.
"Left shoulder. Spin elbow. Cut under the rib—"
His body responded before his mind caught up. He wasn't reacting. He was anticipating. No—he was remembering. But the memories weren't his.
They belonged to someone else.
Or something else.
The relic was feeding him muscle memory, reflexes, styles he'd never trained in. Centuries of experience flooding his limbs. Lyen's perfect form crumbled the moment she realized he was dancing ahead of her.
Their final exchange came in a blur of fire and frost. Her blade stopped at his throat.
So did his, pressed to hers.
Silence.
Then, a slow breath. She stepped back.
"You pass," she said grudgingly. "Barely."
The other two figures approached again—one limping, one still coughing from the blow. They knelt.
From the mist and shadows behind them, Veylan emerged, his dark robes untouched by dust.
He smiled.
"A test of spirit. A test of instinct. And a test of restraint. You passed all three."
Tian Rui lowered his blade, still wary.
"That wasn't training. That was an ambush."
Veylan shrugged. "A taste of the world beyond the clans. Where death doesn't wait for rules."
He gestured toward the cracked earth at the center of the valley. A spiral staircase had begun to reveal itself—stone steps descending into shadow, glowing faintly with the same sigils that had etched into the scroll.
"Now the real journey begins," Veylan said. "Below lies the truth of your relic. The truth of your blood."
"My blood?"
"Of course," Veylan said, voice silk. "You think this power just chose you? No. You were born for it, Tian Rui. There's a reason the Five Clans fear what lies beneath this valley."
Lyen crossed her arms. "Let him rest. He just unlocked syncing. His body won't last much longer."
Tian Rui's knees nearly buckled. She was right. His limbs trembled, his vision blurred. He was running on instinct alone. The relic wanted more—but his body was still that of a boy.
"Rest now," Veylan said. "Descend tomorrow. Once you go down those steps, there's no going back."
Tian Rui turned to the stairs.
No going back.
His hand hovered over the mark on his chest.
Maybe he'd never wanted to go back anyway.