Chapter 104 · The Flamebearer

  In the affluent western district, the second-floor windows of a red-brick villa stood wide open.

  The setting sun poured in, dyeing the room a deep, blood-washed red.

  A girl lay motionless on the bed.

  Her face was pallid. Long red hair spilled across the pillow, as though she were merely asleep—

  if not for the hollowed cheeks,

  and the dark purpling at her lips.

  “Scarlett… my precious daughter…”

  A middle-aged man collapsed to his knees beside the bed. His expensive silk pajamas were twisted and creased, his grip crushing around her already cold hand. Veins bulged sharply against the back of his trembling fist.

  “You can’t leave… you can’t…”

  “Aaah—!”

  A woman threw herself over the girl’s body, nails tearing into the bedsheets.

  “My child! My baby! How could you leave your mother?! You’re only nineteen—nineteen years old!”

  The scream tore through the room—raw, shrill, as though she were clawing her own soul out through her throat.

  In the corner, a red-haired young man was curled in on himself.

  His forehead was pressed hard against the bedpost. His fists shook violently.

  “Scarlett…”

  The word scraped out of him, hoarse beyond recognition.

  “You promised… you promised we’d go to the graduation ball together…”

  ?

  Memory · Two Months Earlier

  The girls’ restroom was cold, sharp with the stench of disinfectant.

  Elena was shoved violently into the corner of a stall.

  A bucket of ice water came crashing down over her head.

  Scarlett stood nearby, phone raised, filming.

  Her newly manicured crystal nails scraped across the screen with a shrill sound.

  The shutter clicked.

  Giggles burst out—light, delighted, merciless—

  cutting through the winter air like blades.

  ?

  Present

  The red-haired young man snapped his head up, eyes shot through with blood.

  With a roar, he slammed his fist into the vanity mirror.

  Glass exploded outward.

  “That damned Caelestis—! I’ll make him pay in blood—!”

  “Enough!”

  Lordrick’s voice cut through the room. It was sharp—but trembling.

  “It was your sister who—”

  The words stopped.

  Swallowed whole.

  In the shattered mirror, something else caught the light.

  A photograph lay reflected on the vanity surface.

  Scarlett stood between two close friends, all three of them smiling brightly, fingers raised in victory signs.

  Youth.

  Beauty.

  Certainty.

  Their laughter was frozen there—

  sealed forever inside that radiant moment.

  ————

  [Crownfire] Nightclub · Fifth Floor · Private Lounge

  Crystal light from the chandelier fractured across the dark red carpet, splintering into restless shadows.

  The air was heavy—cigars, whiskey, and something bitter that clung to the throat.

  Evan Tull reclined in a leather executive chair, one leg crossed over the other. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, slow and measured, as his gaze settled on the woman seated opposite him.

  His elder sister.

  Karin Tull.

  The elegance she once carried was gone.

  Her makeup was smeared, eyes rimmed raw with red. Both hands were clenched in the fabric of her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

  “Evan!”

  Her voice cut sharp, nearly slicing the air.

  “Are you really not going to help me?!”

  She lurched forward, breath uneven.

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  “Do you even know how Scarlett died?! Her arm was crushed—crushed!”

  Her voice broke violently.

  “She suffered for two whole months! She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest—she stayed conscious only by pumping herself full of sedatives!”

  Evan closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. A flicker of exhaustion passed through his expression.

  “Karin,” he said at last, voice low, restrained,

  “Scarlett’s death pains me deeply.”

  He opened his eyes.

  “But YiChen Caelestis is no longer someone you can measure in terms of influence or leverage.”

  A brief pause.

  “You’re talking about something else now.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “A monster who can crush steel with his bare hands.”

  “Then answer me—”

  Karin shot to her feet. Both palms slammed onto the table. Her nails bit deep into the polished redwood.

  “—is there anything that can kill him?!”

  Her voice trembled—not with fear, but fury.

  “You know where his strength comes from. Blackpine Forest. The Light Beasts.”

  Her eyes burned.

  “That’s why he’s untouchable. Because he bonded with one of them. If our people could just—”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  Evan cut her off sharply, his voice turning blade-cold.

  “You think I haven’t tried?”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “The last team I sent in—seven entered. Three came back.”

  “All of them awakened fighters.”

  Silence fell.

  Karin’s chest rose and fell violently. Tears pooled in her eyes but stubbornly refused to spill.

  “I only need you to do one thing.”

  She straightened, jaw tightening, forcing each word out with surgical precision.

  “Five days from now, the city council will organize a so-called civilian inspection into Blackpine Forest.”

  Her gaze locked onto his.

  “Put Derrick in.”

  Evan’s pupils contracted.

  Derrick Vane.

  Her eldest son.

  Expelled from the academy.

  Blacklisted after being implicated in his sister’s bullying case.

  A boy already teetering on the edge of madness.

  “What exactly are you planning?” Evan’s voice dropped to ice.

  “Karin, this is playing with fire.”

  “Since childhood,” his gaze turning suddenly cold,

  “you’ve always been strong. Always unwilling to bow.”

  She leaned closer.

  “If you don’t help me—”

  Her voice lowered to a lethal whisper.

  “I will do something you’ll regret.”

  The room went still.

  Only cigar smoke curled upward, slow and suffocating.

  (She used to be a gentle sister. Once.)

  At last, Evan closed his eyes and exhaled.

  “…Fine.”

  “I’ll find a way to get him inside.”

  He opened his eyes again, gaze sharp as a drawn knife.

  “But whatever happens after that—”

  “I won’t take responsibility.”

  —————

  No. 112 Azure Radiance Street · Rosehill Garden

  A clear blue sky stretched overhead, thin white clouds drifting lazily across it.

  A gentle breeze moved through the garden, setting flowers and leaves whispering softly against one another.

  For YiChen, these past few days had been nothing short of swinging back and forth between heaven and hell.

  Elena’s gentleness washed over him like a tide—

  In the mornings, he woke with her curled in his arms, her hair carrying a faint, lingering fragrance that clung to his senses long after she stirred.

  At night, before sleep claimed them, she would press a soft kiss to his forehead, her fingers smoothing over the tension locked deep in his back.

  During purification, her lips would brush his, Spiritflame and breath intertwining—burning so fiercely that his reason teetered on the brink of collapse.

  And he…

  He could only grit his teeth, clinging to the last thread of clarity, holding fast to a restraint already stretched to its limit.

  —Don’t lose control.

  —Don’t hurt her.

  To keep himself from breaking, he poured nearly all of his remaining focus into cultivation.

  With the South District reconstruction and the Energy Tower project now fully stabilized, there was no longer a need for constant oversight. Beneath the ginkgo tree in the courtyard, his figure could often be seen—seated cross-legged, motionless, breath deep and measured.

  The Taiwei Guiyuan Art flowed through his Spirit Meridians, divine power surging within him like stardust carried on a vast, unending current.

  The third layer—

  All Phenomena Return as One.

  In his previous life, he had never broken past the second layer.

  In this life, a body reforged by divine power had shattered that old limit with ease.

  But the third layer was different.

  It demanded more than raw accumulation of Spirit Force.

  It demanded—

  Comprehension.

  Within his meridians, divine power rushed like a great river—

  only to halt abruptly at a single point, as though striking an invisible wall.

  —So close.

  —Just one step away.

  YiChen drew in a slow breath, suppressing the restless turbulence rising in his chest.

  Under the garden colonnade, Elena rested her chin in her hands, quietly watching him. Sunlight filtered through the leaves above, scattering fine flecks of light across her pale skirt.

  YiChen opened his eyes—

  And met her gaze.

  A breeze slipped past, brushing loose strands of hair across her forehead. She lifted her hand and gently tucked them aside, the motion small and unthinking.

  In that instant, his Spirit Meridians trembled.

  It was as though something cold and rigid within his chest cracked open—

  allowing warmth to pour in, sudden and overwhelming.

  —Insight?

  He almost grasped it—

  And then it slipped through his fingers.

  “Tired?” she asked as she hurried over, fingertips lightly brushing the sweat at his temple.

  “Do you want to take a break?”

  YiChen looked at her face, now so close, and felt his throat tighten.

  Perhaps what he was meant to comprehend had never been some distant, impersonal law of heaven.

  But rather—

  How to remain sane,

  how to remain whole,

  within a gentleness this unbearably, scorching hot.

  ———

  Night gradually deepened.

  Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, laying a pale silver wash across the room.

  It was time for purification again.

  YiChen sat at the edge of the bed, the lines of his shoulders and back tightening without conscious intent.

  He knew exactly what would follow—

  not pain,

  but danger.

  Elena did not hesitate.

  She sat down in front of him and lifted her hands to cradle his face.

  The warmth of her palms stole his breath for a brief, dangerous second.

  “Starting.”

  Her voice was low.

  Pink-gold Spiritflame ignited at her fingertips, flowing into his Spirit Meridians like scattered starlight.

  Heat spread along his internal channels.

  Black thorns shattered and dispersed within the fire.

  YiChen let out a muted sound, his head tipping back instinctively, his throat tightening as he fought for control.

  —Don’t get closer.

  Just then, she leaned in.

  Her forehead rested lightly against his.

  Their breaths mingled—close, steady—

  but she did not cross the line.

  In that instant, the Spiritflame faltered.

  YiChen’s eyes snapped open.

  It was as if the world had been pulled sharply back into focus.

  He raised his hand and caught her wrist.

  The grip was restrained—

  yet unmistakably trembling.

  “That’s enough.”

  His voice was hoarse, but unusually clear.

  Elena froze for a heartbeat.

  Then she did not pull away.

  Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek gently to his chest.

  Her voice was so soft it nearly vanished beneath the sound of his heartbeat.

  “I’m here.”

  The Spiritflame slowly faded.

  The room returned to stillness.

  YiChen closed his eyes and released a long breath—

  like someone dragged back from the edge of a cliff.

  He did not touch her again.

  He only held her firmly against him—

  as if this were the only distance at which he could keep his sanity intact.

  “…Don’t do that again.”

  He said it

  not as reproach,

  but as a plea.

  Outside the window, moonlight continued its silent drift.

  In the depths of the Consciousness Sea, Shadowfang and Shixi said nothing.

  The undercurrents remained—

  but were forced deep below the surface.

  “Sleep,” YiChen said hoarsely, fingers brushing through her hair,

  as if soothing her—

  and persuading himself.

  Elena’s breathing gradually evened out.

  He, however, lay awake for a long time.

  Instinctively, he tightened his arms, holding her more securely—

  as if doing so might anchor him to the present.

  The night grew heavy.

  Far away, the surface of the sea stirred beneath the wind.