The girl led Jayden through the ruins in silence.
Roots coiled around street signs like snakes. Cracked walls whispered with the ghosts of a city that had tried to erase its past — and failed. She walked fast, eyes sharp, as if she expected enemies behind every tree.
Jayden tried to speak several times. Each time, her silence told him: Not yet.
They passed a rusted monorail track, climbed down the slope of a shattered tunnel, and reached what looked like the basement of an old rail station. But when she pressed her palm against a wall of bricks — symbols flared.
Chi ran through stone like blood in a vein.
The wall dissolved.
Revealing stairs that sank into darkness.
Jayden hesitated. She didn't.
He followed.
The stairs went down for what felt like forever. The further they descended, the more the air changed — denser, cooler, humming with ancient energy. Like the city had bones, and they were walking inside them.
At the bottom was a door.
A great circular slab etched with dragons, lotus flowers, and curved calligraphy Jayden couldn't read.
The girl turned to him.
"You're about to enter what's left of the Sacred Temple of Ember Root. Only two people alive know this place exists." She paused. "Three, now."
Jayden studied her more closely. She was about his age, maybe a year older. A scar ran from her eyebrow to cheekbone. Not enough to mar her face, but enough to say she'd survived things most hadn't.
"I'm Jayden," he said finally.
"I know."
He raised a brow. "And you are?"
She smirked faintly. "Call me Lian."
Then she pushed open the door.
The chamber beyond wasn't just a training hall.
It was a world.
Ancient scrolls filled floating bookshelves. Glowing stones hovered in midair, radiating warmth. Water trickled from a stone dragon's mouth into a crystal basin. A large tree with gold-veined bark grew at the center of the room, stretching toward a ceiling covered in painted constellations.
Jayden's breath caught.
Lian crossed to the far end and struck a gong. A soft hum filled the room. Then, from behind a curtain of hanging beads, emerged a man in robes dyed deep crimson and black.
He was old — far older than Kellan had been — but his back was straight, and his steps made no sound.
His eyes were closed.
Yet Jayden felt the weight of his attention all the same.
"So," the old man said, his voice a blend of gravel and wind, "the Dragon Form breathes once more."
Jayden stepped forward, unsure whether to bow, speak, or just run.
The man approached him slowly. "You carry the scroll. The mark. And the fire. But you are undisciplined. Untamed. A flame without focus is just destruction."
Jayden straightened. "Then teach me."
The man smiled faintly. "Many have asked. Few were worthy."
"I didn't ask. I said."
Lian tensed behind him.
But the old man laughed — not with cruelty, but with something close to… respect.
"Very well," he said. "From this moment, you are a disciple of the Ember Root Temple."
He touched two fingers to Jayden's forehead.
Jayden's vision flashed white.
When he blinked, he was somewhere else.
He stood in the center of a canyon, stars swirling above him. Statues of martial ancestors lined the cliff edges — massive, crumbling, yet still filled with presence.
Wind howled.
The old man — now younger in form — stood across from him in simple robes.
"You will learn the Four Gates of the Dragon Form," he said. "Stance. Flow. Fire. Spirit. You will learn to feel chi not just in your body — but in the world. You will eat roots that make your veins burn. Drink waters that purge weakness. Fail a hundred times before you succeed once."
Jayden braced himself.
And then it began.
The first weeks were agony.
He rose before the sun, knelt on cold stone, meditated until his legs went numb. Every breath was a war. Every motion felt wrong. His balance was off. His muscles rebelled.
Lian was faster, sharper, more fluid. She said little — trained hard — and watched him with unreadable eyes.
The old master — who revealed his name only as Shen — was ruthless but never cruel. He corrected Jayden with a whisper, never raised his voice, but made him repeat stances until sweat dripped from his elbows and his chest felt like it would collapse.
He chewed bitter roots that sent heat surging through his bones. Drank tea that made him hallucinate dragons made of wind and fire. Bathed in mineral waters that left him sore but strangely light.
And he trained.
Day after day.
Until one night, while performing the Dragon's Spiral stance beneath the golden tree, something clicked.
His feet shifted.
His hips flowed.
His breath aligned.
And the energy moved.
Not just within him — but around him.
The leaves above trembled.
The water in the basin stilled.
And for the first time, Jayden felt it:
Chi.
Living. Breathing. Responding to him.
Master Shen nodded, eyes still closed.
"You've opened your first Gate."
Jayden gasped. "Just now?"
"No," Shen said. "When you stepped into the alley. When you didn't run. The gate was already ajar. Now, it has opened fully."
Jayden looked at his palms.
They tingled.
Not with power — with clarity.
Later that week, Shen led him to a sealed chamber deeper underground.
It was carved entirely from black jade. Candles burned with blue flame. In the center: a circular table made of volcanic glass, engraved with strange slots and pressure points.
"This," Shen said, "is an alchemy altar. The kind only three clans in history ever mastered. Your ancestors were one of them."
He handed Jayden a pouch.
Inside: dried spirit herbs, crushed moonroot, powdered jade lotus, and two blood-red flame berries.
Jayden swallowed hard.
"You will fail," Shen said simply. "But you will try."
Jayden set the ingredients. Focused his breathing. Summoned the chi flame within his palm — it sputtered, wavered… then held.
The herbs glowed. The powder mixed.
And the pill cracked.
Smoke hissed.
Jayden coughed and nearly passed out.
Shen didn't react.
"Again."
Jayden repeated the process.
Crack. Burn. Sputter.
"Again."
Third attempt.
Jayden steadied his breath, focused his intent, lowered his chi gently this time.
The flame responded.
The ingredients fused.
The pill formed.
And glowed.
Whole. Stable.
Jayden exhaled.
Shen gave a small nod. "You're your father's son."
Jayden looked up, chest still rising and falling. "Did you know him?"
Shen's silence said more than words could.
"I trained him," the master said at last. "Watched him become something greater than this world was ready for. And then I watched him walk into the darkness — alone — because he believed the cost was worth it."
Jayden clenched his jaw. "He shouldn't have gone alone."
"No," Shen agreed. "And you won't have to."
That night, Lian found Jayden sitting by the basin, feet in the water, watching the glowworms drift above the ceiling.
She sat beside him without a word.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then she said, softly, "You're not bad. For someone who started at zero."
Jayden smiled faintly. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
"Close as you're gonna get."
He laughed. "Thanks… I guess."
She glanced sideways. "You ever think about what comes after all this?"
"After?"
"Yeah. After training. After revenge. After… destiny."
Jayden paused.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I'll figure it out… with someone who gets it."
She looked away — but didn't leave.
He didn't either.
And for the first time since his father vanished, Jayden felt something warm begin to rise inside him.
Not fire.
Something deeper.
Something human.