The snow-capped summit of Mount Oriale pierced the heavens, its jagged peaks bathed in amber sunlight as Yun Jian and Mei Lin arrived at the final ascent. The treacherous climb had tested their stamina, their courage, and even their trust in each other. Yet none of that would matter now—not with the Sky Furnace before them.
Legends called it the Divine Crucible of Sovereigns.
Those who entered either emerged reborn… or never emerged at all.
At the heart of the summit was a gate—towering, ancient, and adorned with celestial engravings that shimmered like living light. A sentence was etched above in characters too old to be spoken aloud, but Yun Jian understood them instinctively:
"Only truth may withstand the fire. All else shall burn."
He stepped forward, the air trembling around him. A gust of wind swirled violently as if trying to warn him, and Mei Lin instinctively reached for his arm.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed concern. "The Sky Furnace doesn't test strength. It tests the soul."
"I know," Yun Jian replied, pulling free gently. "That's why I must go alone."
The obsidian gate opened silently. No mechanism. No resistance. Just acceptance.
And then, he stepped into the fire.
Yun Jian awoke in darkness—not the absence of light, but the presence of something else. A void. A pressure. He wasn't standing. He wasn't floating. He simply was.
Then came the voice.
Not loud, nor soft, but absolute.
"Who are you?"
Yun Jian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He saw himself reflected in the void: a boy covered in dirt, too weak to protect his family, too scared to face the truth.
"You are afraid," the voice continued. "Afraid that power has changed you. That it will consume you, like the ones you swore to fight."
Yun Jian's heart thundered.
The darkness shifted.
Now he stood back in his village, watching the night his life shattered. Fire devoured the homes. Screams rang through the air. He saw his mother shielding a child—not him. A lie he had told himself for years.
"You ran," the voice whispered.
"I was a child!" he shouted.
"You are still running."
The sky cracked. Lightning tore the illusion apart.
He stood in a throne room now—his throne room. Marble pillars stretched skyward, stained in gold and shadow. Beneath the steps lay fallen enemies: kings, generals, even beasts of divine rank.
On the throne sat himself, cloaked in black and silver, eyes glowing with terrifying authority. No smile. No joy. Just command.
No one else remained.
No Mei Lin.
No Ghostfang.
No purpose.
"Is this the future you seek?" the voice asked.
"No," Yun Jian replied, stepping away from the throne. "Power without meaning is just emptiness."
The illusion broke.
Now, he was surrounded by fire.
Not flames of destruction—but of transformation. This was the true Sky Furnace—a dimension outside time, where the soul is reforged.
Before him hovered a blade—incomplete. Its form flickered between steel and smoke, between shape and void. It pulsed with his memories, his doubts, his dreams.
"Forge yourself," the voice said. "Or shatter."
A blacksmith's hammer appeared in his hand. It was warm. Heavy. Familiar.
And then, one by one, memories became strikes.
He hammered his guilt into the blade.
He folded in his rage, layered with hope.
He quenched it in his grief, tempered with love.
Each strike brought clarity.
He remembered the moment Mei Lin stood between him and a Divine Beast.
He remembered Ghostfang licking his wounds after a battle.
He remembered Jin Tao, laughing through his bruises, saying, "We follow you because you're not perfect. But you never give up."
His hands moved with purpose now, no longer afraid.
With one final strike, the blade took form.
It was unlike any sword ever forged.
The hilt, wrapped in ethereal thread, pulsed with shadowlight. The blade was black—so black it absorbed not just light, but doubt. Runes carved themselves along the edge, spelling out a single name.
"Nightend."
The moment he spoke it, the furnace exploded with white-hot energy.
The forge recognized its master.
And Yun Jian… was reborn.
He stepped out of the gate, cloaked not in cloth but in living armor—black, gold, and indigo shadow plating that pulsed with silent power. His eyes no longer just glowed. They radiated authority.
Mei Lin fell to her knees.
Not out of submission—but awe.
"You passed," she whispered.
"No," Yun Jian said, his voice low but certain. "I chose."
He looked toward the distance. There, beyond the mountain ranges and starry skies, the Empyrean Court waited.
They feared the Shadow Sovereign.
But now, they would learn the price of their fear.
Because the sword was forged.
The soul was whole.
And judgment was coming.