"Hello, young master. Forgive the intrusion," the voice echoed once more within Mu Chen's mind.
As Liang sat in meditative silence, deeply immersed in cultivation, Mu Chen abruptly stood, his expression contorted as though locked in an invisible confrontation.
"Who are you? How did you get into my mind?"
"I am Yin Yue," the voice replied smoothly, "your assistant and appointed guardian."
At that, Mu Chen's face shifted, caught between bemusement and disbelief. A tinge of color touched his cheeks.
"A guardian? My guardian is a—what? A robot?"
A burst of laughter followed. "How gullible. I only mimicked a machine for amusement, and you fell for it."
Now the voice no longer held that mechanical rhythm. It was fluid, undeniably human. Startled, Mu Chen recoiled with visible discomfort.
"You tricked me?" he barked. "Get out of my head this instant!"
"That's not happening," the voice huffed, unimpressed. "You're far too weak to sever this link. I'm bound to you—though why, even I'm not entirely sure. I am the... well, never mind that."
Mu Chen clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as his emotions boiled over. Across from him, Elder Liang cracked open one eye, disturbed by the young man's strange outbursts.
"What on earth is he doing? Talking to himself like a madman?" the elder thought grimly. Rising slowly, he lifted his staff and padded quietly toward Mu Chen.
Thwack!
The staff met Mu Chen's head with a resounding thud.
"Enough! Return to your senses, boy. Madness doesn't suit you."
Mu turned, wincing in pain. "Elder Liang! Why would you do that?"
"I thought you'd lost your mind," the elder grunted. "You were mumbling like a lunatic."
"Me? Mad?"
Liang narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, then turned away with a sigh, mumbling to himself about youthful foolishness.
From within, Yin Yue's laugh rang out again.
"Who are you laughing at?" Mu Chen snapped.
Liang turned back, frowning. "Still hearing voices? I can help you again if needed. Madness left untreated is dangerous."
Mu quickly forced a grin and shook his head.
He followed Liang as the elder resettled into a seated position. The old man exhaled deeply, then closed his eyes once more.
Mu Chen sat under the pine tree, cradling the ancient scroll in his hands. The glyphs inscribed upon it still refused to yield meaning. Though warm to the touch, the parchment throbbed with an energy that was... alive.
He looked up. "Elder Liang... this scroll... I can't understand it. Why did you give this to me?"
Elder Liang opened his eyes slowly, the flames of the nearby oil lamp casting shifting shadows across his face. He reached forward and laid a hand over Mu Chen's.
"I gave it to you," he said softly, "because you had the courage to believe. And in turn, belief chose you."
Mu Chen's voice lowered, tight with uncertainty. "But why me? Why not someone stronger, someone ready?"
Liang's gaze turned to the flickering lamp. "There was a man, long forgotten by history. Not because he was unremarkable, but because no one was permitted to remember him. A god. He wielded the Ninefold Scroll, his heart so ablaze with divine fire that the heavens themselves grew envious. Then, without warning—he disappeared."
Mu Chen held his breath.
"No one knows what became of him," Liang continued. "Only the scroll remained, drifting for generations... until it found you. That is no accident. That is fate."
Silence fell like mist.
Mu Chen spoke at last. "Then how do I begin? You mentioned the Nine Flames. What must I do?"
Liang rose, his movements measured. "The Ninefold Flame isn't a technique—it's a reckoning. Each flame reveals truth, burns away illusion. You don't conquer them. You survive them."
He turned and began walking. Mu Chen followed. They ascended a path behind the shrine, up toward a wide plateau beneath the night sky.
"Sit," Liang said.
Mu Chen obeyed, breathing deep, grounding himself.
"To awaken the First Flame—the Flame of Amber Ashen—you must reach inward. The ember lies dormant within your blood. Close your eyes."
Mu Chen complied. Liang stood behind him, inscribing invisible runes in the air.
Two fingers pressed gently to Mu's back. A heat bloomed at his core, not painful, but undeniable.
"Now listen carefully," Liang murmured. "The Flame of Amber ashen reveals what you've refused to face. No dreams. Only truth. Do not fight it."
Mu Chen's vision dimmed, and he fell inward.
He stood in a narrow alley, rain-slicked and dark. Before him—his younger self, clutching Xinyin's tiny hand. Trembling and terrified.
Screams echoed in the distance, then fell silent. The silence of something stolen forever.
Mu Chen's knees weakened, but he remained upright.
He stepped closer. Saw the grief in that boy's eyes. The blame. The guilt. It hurt, It burned.
A golden spark flickered on his forehead. The agony rose—but so did his resolve.
The mark pulsed with light, illuminating the memory. The pain lingered, but no longer consumed him.
On the plateau, his eyes opened.
Flames circled him, dancing—not devouring.
Elder Liang watched, silent.
"The First Flame accepts you," he said at last. "You've taken your first step."
Mu Chen's body trembled as the nascent ember—previously nestled within him—was consumed by the overwhelming force of the Phoenix Flame. Instead of being repelled, the ember was devoured, absorbed entirely into the ancient power. The fusion intensified the Phoenix Flame tenfold, its energy erupting in a sudden, majestic surge.
A tempestuous aura spiraled from his core, enveloping his frame in a blaze of brilliant cerulean fire. The heavens themselves seemed to react—the sky warped, shifting into a hauntingly beautiful shade of blue as dense clouds swirled above. A pillar of incandescent light shot heavenward, piercing the firmament and ascending beyond mortal reach.
In every corner of the realm—from bustling cities to distant, forgotten lands—people stopped to gaze at the sky, awestruck by the celestial phenomenon. Even those dwelling in realms unseen by mortals—across boundaries of time and space—felt the tremor of rebirth.
In the shadowed dominion of the demons, the ripple of energy echoed like a thunderclap. Within a vast, obsidian palace, a servant bowed before his master, voice trembling.
"My Lord... it appears something has awakened."
The demon known as Mo Yán stepped from his throne, eyes narrowing as he lifted his gaze toward the shifting skies.
"Reawakened..." he murmured, then chuckled darkly. "So the Fenghuang stirs once more. Let's see how long this flame dares to burn before the darkness smothers it."
His laughter echoed through the blackened halls, but his eyes gleamed with wary recognition.