The ruins were a maze of silence and echoes, each passageway bending upon itself like a serpent swallowing its own tail. Stone walls breathed with damp cold, and every step carried the weight of centuries that had gone unmeasured. The torchlight in the hands of the sect cultivators flickered weakly, as though afraid of intruding upon the ancient darkness.
Zhou Tian staggered as he followed at the edge of the group, his body still weakened from the poison that had once bound him and Lin Moun together. Though he had broken through to the Tier-A Ranker realm by consuming the dragon essence, his body remained fragile, unstable, as if a storm of broken laws still lingered within his veins. His hands trembled faintly when he touched the rough wall, but his eyes—cold, determined—burned with a quiet fire.
Lin Moun walked a few paces ahead, her steps graceful, but her breathing faintly uneven. The residue of the love poison clung to her like an invisible chain, but she did not look back. She did not dare.
Around them, sect cultivators whispered. Their robes bore emblems of rival factions, yet here, in this labyrinth of the unknown, even enemies had formed a fragile alliance. All eyes, all greed, were fixed upon a single destination—the heart of the ruins, where the lotus flame was said to burn.
---
They came upon a vast chamber.
The walls rose high, inscribed with ancient sigils that seemed to twist when gazed upon, as if unseen entities had carved them with trembling claws. At the chamber's center floated a lotus of fire—its petals crystalline, each a fragment of pure flame frozen mid-bloom. The light it emitted was not warmth but awe, a brilliance that made the soul bow down in reverence.
The cultivators stopped as one, their breathing stilled.
Someone whispered hoarsely, "The lotus flame…"
In that instant, greed shattered the alliance.
One voice cried, "It belongs to my sect!" A figure leapt forward, summoning a river of sword-light that split the air. Another followed, unleashing chains of lightning that rattled like wrathful serpents.
The chamber erupted in chaos.
---
The battle was not ordinary—it was carnage sculpted by desperation. Sword auras collided with fire talismans, and the floor cracked under the clash of divine techniques. The air grew thick with the stench of blood and ozone.
Zhou Tian watched from the shadows of the battlefield. His body screamed at him to withdraw, to conserve what little strength remained. Yet his mind was cold. He observed not as prey, but as a predator biding its time.
"Power," he murmured under his breath, almost inaudible, "chooses no man by morality… only by will."
Lin Moun, standing near him, gritted her teeth. Though she was strong, she knew she could not compete here. Every strike exchanged between the cultivators could level mountains, and she and Zhou Tian stood on the thin line between insignificance and death.
A cultivator fell, his chest pierced by a blade of molten light. His body crumbled to ash before it touched the floor. Another screamed as her head was severed by a talisman-formed guillotine. The chamber grew into a slaughterhouse, the lotus flame hovering above it all, silent, perfect, untouchable.
---
One man, robed in crimson, roared like a mad beast. His cultivation radiated like a collapsing star as he extended his arm toward the lotus. "It is mine! With this flame, I shall ascend beyond the heavens!"
His hand touched the edge of the lotus fire. For an instant, brilliance engulfed him. Then—silence.
His scream was not heard. His body turned translucent, then shattered into a million motes of dust, consumed entirely by the flame. Not even ashes remained.
The chamber froze.
Fear seized every heart.
Zhou Tian's eyes narrowed. "The lotus… rejects them."
But rejection only fed desire. The others attacked with renewed madness, launching everything they had—seals, spears of spirit-light, forbidden arts. Each attempt ended the same. The flame devoured, erased, and denied. One by one, they perished, until the stone floor was slick with blood and painted with shadows that no light could cleanse.
---
Lin Moun whispered, "It doesn't want them…"
Her voice trembled, but Zhou Tian caught the deeper meaning.
The lotus flame was no treasure to be seized. It was a will, a power that chose—or refused.
As the last two cultivators lunged and died screaming in the brilliance, silence returned. The flame floated alone once more, untouched, unyielding.
Zhou Tian stepped forward.
"Don't," Lin Moun hissed, fear piercing her voice. "You'll die like them."
He paused, glancing back at her. His lips curled faintly, not in kindness but in irony. "Perhaps death is cheaper than insignificance."
But though his words carried edge, his body did not move further. He understood. Unlike the others, he had no strength left to gamble recklessly.
---
The lotus flame flickered, and for a heartbeat, its light dimmed, as though mocking the corpses at its feet. Then, with a soundless sigh, its petals folded inward. The radiant bloom contracted upon itself, sealing its light away.
The chamber darkened. The flame had rejected all.
Zhou Tian exhaled slowly, the cold in his eyes unshaken. "So even power itself is arrogant."
The battlefield reeked of blood and scorched stone. Cracks spread across the defensive shield, and Zhou Tian could feel the weight of collapse pressing from all directions.
Then—
The flame at the heart of the courtyard stirred. What was once no more than an ember now surged into a lotus of fire, petals unfurling with divine brilliance. Each flicker of flame was like an eye, watching, choosing, judging.
Lin Moun's breath caught. She had steeled herself to refine it, but the lotus ignored her preparation. It trembled once, and in the next instant—it leapt.
The fiery lotus streaked across the shattered air, bypassing every struggling cultivator, bypassing Zhou Tian entirely, and plunged into Lin Moun's chest.
Her eyes widened in shock. The lotus didn't burn her flesh—it sank into her spirit. Her sword hand faltered, trembling as her aura flared violently and then… dimmed.
Like chains wrapping around a prisoner, the lotus flame wound itself into her meridians. Her cultivation roared once in protest, but the fire's authority was absolute. In an instant, her vast aura collapsed inward, sealed.
Her body shook as though her own strength was rejecting her. Zhou Tian caught her before she fell, his mortal hands trembling as he felt her pulse—faint, sealed, but alive.
"Why… me?" Lin Moun's lips trembled, her voice thin, drained. "It… didn't grant me power. It… imprisoned me…"
Before Zhou Tian could answer, the entire ruin shuddered. The cracked shield fell away. The world of broken stones groaned, and then—
A voice, vast and ancient, seeped from the sky itself.
"Power is never taken. Power chooses. And those chosen must first burn, before they can rise."
The voice faded, leaving only silence, and in that silence the ruins themselves began to reject them. Light swirled like a tidal wave, and Zhou Tian felt his body being torn from the ground.
When the brilliance faded, he found himself outside—standing at the edge of the ruins where they had first entered. His chest heaved with disbelief.
Lin Moun lay beside him, her hand still locked in his as though the seal had bound not only her power, but her fate to his. Her once overwhelming aura was utterly gone. She seemed like nothing more than a mortal woman, pale, fragile, breathing shallowly.
For the first time, Zhou Tian realized the cruel truth:
The ruins had rejected the immortal… and spared the mortal.