The Phoenix Temple stood hidden among cloud-veiled cliffs, its crimson eaves barely visible through the morning mist. Legends said it was the last sanctuary of the ancient order that once guarded the Forbidden Scrolls—before they were scattered and cursed.
For Xiao Mo, it felt more like déjà vu than discovery.
The moment he stepped past the temple gates, something deep in his bones stirred—like a memory not quite remembered, a voice whispering from a life once lived.
Yuan Sijun noticed. "You've gone pale."
"I've been here before," Xiao Mo murmured.
Sijun frowned. "You said this temple was lost to history."
"I know," he said. "But I remember this place."
—
They were guided by an old monk with a quiet gaze and a back curved like a question mark. The man never asked Xiao Mo who he was or why he came. He only led them through winding corridors filled with faded murals—depictions of beasts, stars, flames, and a scroll clasped in divine hands.
Finally, they arrived at a secluded hall carved into the cliff itself. Wind howled softly through narrow slits in the stone.
"This is where it waits," the monk said.
"What?" Sijun asked.
"The memory," the monk replied. "And perhaps… the key."
He bowed and left them alone.
In the center of the chamber stood a single pedestal. On it—a scroll wrapped in obsidian silk. The second of the seven.
Xiao Mo's heart thundered. He stepped forward slowly.
As his fingers brushed the scroll, the air shifted.
And the world broke open.
—
Flames roared in his ears.
He was no longer in the temple. Not truly. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in a courtyard consumed by fire. People screamed. Shadows danced across burning stone. Swords clashed. Smoke coiled like serpents through the air.
And in the center stood a boy.
No—him.
Or rather… the first him.
He was dressed in white and gold robes. His eyes shone like starlight. Around him, scrolls floated in a halo, bleeding light and power. He was not the Xiao Mo of this life—timid and quiet—but someone else entirely. Someone ancient.
A voice echoed through the vision, deep and sharp:
"Mo Tianxian. Keeper of the Final Flame. You swore to protect the balance. Why have you broken the seals?"
The boy's voice was calm, resolute.
"Because the empire betrayed us. They used our wisdom to conquer, not to heal. I will not let them bind the world in chains of silence."
The vision cracked again.
The scrolls split. The flames consumed everything.
And the voice whispered once more—closer this time:
"You are not only the heir… you are the catalyst."
—
Xiao Mo stumbled back, gasping.
Sijun caught him before he collapsed.
"What did you see?" he asked urgently.
Xiao Mo clutched his chest, sweat pouring from his brow. "I was someone else. Not just a reincarnated soul… I was the Keeper of the Scrolls. The one who broke them apart."
Sijun went still.
"The curse on the scrolls… it wasn't punishment. It was protection. I placed it."
The temple was silent.
Sijun helped him to sit by the pedestal. His hand brushed Xiao Mo's hair back. "What does it mean?"
"It means I'm not just tied to these scrolls—I started all of this. The Empire's pursuit. The seal. The balance. Everything."
Sijun exhaled slowly. "Then we'll finish what you began."
Xiao Mo looked at him, eyes wide. "You still want to stand with me? Even after this?"
"I would stand with you in any lifetime," Sijun said. "Even if the world burns again."
—
They left the chamber as the monk waited outside, as if expecting them.
"You saw the truth," he said.
Xiao Mo nodded. "And the burden."
"There is more to see. The third scroll lies far to the west—in the ruins of the Sun-Marked Palace. But be warned: not all who seek the scrolls do so to remember. Some come to rewrite."
"Who?" Sijun asked.
The monk's gaze darkened.
"The Chancellor."
—
By the time they returned to their horses, the sun was dipping low. Shadows stretched long across the path. Xiao Mo rode in silence for a time, eyes distant.
Sijun watched him carefully. "What are you thinking?"
"That if I really am the catalyst," Xiao Mo said, "then maybe I don't just carry this fate—I chose it. And I don't know whether to be afraid of that… or proud."
Sijun reached over, letting their hands touch briefly between the saddles. "Be both."
And for the first time since the vision, Xiao Mo smiled.
—
That night, they camped beneath a canopy of stars, a fire flickering between them. Xiao Mo leaned against Sijun's side, heart still heavy but calmer now.
"Will you still kiss me," he asked quietly, "even if I become someone the world fears?"
Sijun turned to him.
"I will kiss you," he said, "especially then."
Xiao Mo closed his eyes as their foreheads touched once more.
The world was vast. The future unclear.
But between them, something unshakable had taken root.
And it would not break.
Not this time.