The Gate stood before them like a lung carved into stone—great rib-like columns exhaling mist. At the base, an altar of bone and glass.
"Each must surrender what they hold most dear," Liu Mo Fei read aloud, the carved letters pulsing faintly in the mist.
Zhang Tian grinned, casual. "Here, take a soul core." He tossed a gleaming blood gem onto the altar. "I've got plenty."
Nothing happened.
"It's not about what you have," Jia Wei Xin said softly, removing a thin, steel necklace from around her neck. "It's about what you're afraid to lose."
She laid it down—her father's last gift before her transmigration. The mist paused, holding its breath.
She laid it down.
The mist stilled.
Liu Mo Fei followed, unclipping the silver sash from his robe. The symbol of his sect.
Zhang Tian grumbled. Then sighed. And cut off a lock of his hair. "Demon royalty tradition. Hair's memory."
The altar glowed.
The Gate of Breaths opened with a gasp.
---
Inside, a new trial awaited.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the mist thickened—and in a flash of blinding white, the three of them were separated.
Jia Wei Xin spun around, her heart hammering. "Liu Mo Fei? Zhang Tian?" But only silence answered.
No footsteps. No echoes. Just white fog curling like fingers around her boots.
They were torn apart by the mist—no warning, no resistance.
Jia Wei Xin turned in panic, but the others were gone. Only the silence remained.
The mist coiled tighter. Not with whispers. But with memories. Personal. Piercing. Unforgiving.
---
Liu Mo Fei fell to his knees first.
The mist twisted, but it was not illusion—it was memory. A memory long buried and never spoken.
He was a child again, hiding beneath the floorboards of the outer sect hall. His master had told him to stay put. To stay silent. Outside, the screams had started—disciples cut down by assassins, flames spreading from hall to hall. He remembered clutching his robe to his mouth to muffle his sobs, the smell of blood and incense thick in the air. A shadow had paused just outside his hiding place, and for a breathless eternity, he thought it would find him. But it walked past. He had survived. Barely.
His master and many of the senior disciples had died that night. Only a few had lived—most had already been transferred to another location for training. He had been the unlucky one who hadn't left in time… and the lucky one who'd survived. He hated that fact. Deep down, a part of him always thought—he should've died with them.
The sect had rebuilt. But he had never truly come out from under the floorboards. The fear hadn't left him—it had calcified. Into silence. Into control. Into strength. But even strength, forged in fire, left scars. And he still bore every one. Something cold. Something hard. Something that told him he must never be weak again.
But even now, decades later, the memory still held him like a chain. He remained on his knees in the mist, reliving the fire, the screams, the final look from his master before the door slammed shut. His grief had never left. Not really.
---
Zhang Tian staggered sideways.
In his mind, it was raining. Thick, heavy rain over the blood of his brother. His twin. The two had snuck out of the sect together—Zhang Tian insisting on exploring the outer cliffs, despite his brother's warnings. "There are enemies beyond the mist," his brother had said. "We're not strong enough yet."
But Zhang Tian had laughed, taunted, and dashed ahead, his spirit fire dancing like a challenge.
His twin had chased him. And then the ambush. Dark shadows in the trees. Blades from behind. His brother's shout of warning—then a crimson burst of blood. His brother fell. And Zhang Tian watched the light fade from someone who had never failed him.
Zhang Tian had fought—but it was too late. He cradled his brother's body in the rain, watching the life fade from his eyes. The betrayal was unspoken but clear. He had disobeyed. Again. And it had gotten someone else killed.
The blood didn't stop. It poured over his hands, soaking into his skin, turning his demon flame into something darker. Corrupted. He screamed—but only silence echoed back.
---
And Jia Wei Xin—
She saw herself in a glass office. Modern. Cold. Her startup collapsed around her like a sandcastle in the tide. Screens flashing red. Phones ringing. Her co-founder yelling in the distance. A betrayal buried in contracts she didn't sign. She stood frozen as investors turned away, employees left in tears, and everything she gave her soul to dissolved. She saw herself, standing alone in the wreckage, mascara streaked, fists clenched, unable to breathe.
Her ex watched with a crooked smile as the contracts closed—without her. The investors she once dazzled now toasted someone else. Her name vanished from the headlines. From her own company.
And then came the knock on the door. The banker. She had emptied her savings, maxed out credit cards, and signed off a personal loan—just to keep the lights on for everyone else. She thought the funding round was days away. They told her to "trust the process." Then they vanished. And the company—her company—denied any responsibility.
In one night, she lost her startup, her savings, and her name. Her parents cried when the collectors called. She couldn't meet their eyes. Some nights, she stared at the ceiling until sunrise, too ashamed to sleep, too proud to scream. It took two years of clawing back through debt, disgrace, and depression before she could breathe again. Before she could dare to dream of standing on her own feet.
But she was not that woman anymore.
Her chest rose. Her back straightened—not with arrogance, but defiance. Her fists curled—not with rage, but resolve. She was the girl they tried to ruin. And she was still here.
"I'm not her anymore," she whispered, voice full of steel.
The mist around her shrieked like a dying beast.
At that moment, something shifted inside her—like a weight being released. A strange but powerful limit broke. It was as if her soul had just severed the last chain holding it to her past.
The visions shattered—and she saw Zhang Tian and Liu Mo Fei just three feet away, still enshrouded in mist. Both were on their knees, faces drawn in pain, eyes distant with despair.
---
Jia Wei Xin took a steady breath and stepped forward, her voice ringing out across the trial space—clear, unshaken, and fierce.
"Liu Mo Fei. Zhang Tian."
"The pain you carry... the betrayal you endured... the mistakes you wish you could undo—they are chapters, not the conclusion. You are not what was done to you. You are not what you lost."
The mist shuddered.
"You lived. You crawled through ruin and flame. You made it here—not because you were unscarred, but because you refused to stay broken."
Her steps were slow, deliberate. Her hands opened—not in pity, but in strength.
"Let go of the guilt. Let go of the chains you've mistaken for penance. The people who hurt you do not get to keep your future too."
Her voice rose like thunder wrapped in steel. "You are more than the fire that tried to consume you. Let it burn behind you. And walk forward."
Both Liu Mo Fei and Zhang Tian jerked slightly, as if startled awake. The mist began to thin around them. The despair that clung to their bodies slowly lifted. They stood—unsteady at first, but something in their posture had changed. Lighter. Freer. As if the burden they'd been carrying had finally, mercifully, been set down.
Jia Wei Xin moved forward, her silhouette cutting through the remaining mist like a blade. She knelt beside Liu Mo Fei and offered her hand.
He took it, breath still shaky.
She turned to Zhang Tian. He didn't look at her at first—until she gently nudged his hand with hers. He glanced up, eyes red but defiant, and nodded.
"Let's move," she said.
Neither argued.