Chapter 2: The Guidance of the Flame Soul

Night had fallen, casting a blanket of darkness over Jinshi Town. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant howl of stray dogs. In a run-down thatched hut, Lin Jin sat cross-legged on a crude earthen bed, his gaze fixed on the wisp of dark purple flame flickering in his palm.

The flame pulsed with a chilling aura, yet at the same time, it exuded an inexplicable warmth that sent subtle tremors through his meridians.

"Stop staring, boy," an impatient voice echoed in his mind. "That Netherflame isn't a lantern for you to gawk at. If you want to survive—if you want revenge—you need to master it."

Lin Jin snapped out of his trance, took a deep breath, and said solemnly, "Senior, tell me what to do."

"Hmph, at least you have some self-awareness," the old voice muttered, seemingly satisfied. "The path of cultivation in the Spirit Source Realm is built upon harnessing flame energy to temper the body. Your Netherflame is powerful, but it's also wild and domineering. If you don't control it properly, best-case scenario, you'll cripple your meridians; worst case, you'll burn yourself to death. First, you need to draw the flame into your dantian and condense your Flame Seed."

Lin Jin nodded and followed the guidance. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind on the dark flame in his palm. He could feel it—it wasn't just fire; it was alive. It flickered, sometimes shrinking into a tiny ember, other times expanding like a feral beast trying to break free.

"Slower!" the old voice barked. "Are you trying to blast your meridians apart? Control it gently—like taming a wild horse. Pull too hard, and it'll buck you off."

Sweat beaded on Lin Jin's forehead as he adjusted his approach. The moment he relaxed his grip over the flame, it became more obedient, forming a thin thread of fire that slithered along his arm, seeping into his meridians. A sharp, stinging pain surged through his body, an icy burn that felt like thousands of tiny needles piercing his flesh. And yet, beneath the pain, there was a strange, invigorating sensation—like his very being was awakening.

"Not bad. First time, and you haven't set yourself on fire. Maybe you're not completely hopeless after all," the old man chuckled. "Keep going—guide the flame into your dantian and condense your Flame Seed. Once it's formed, you'll have officially stepped into the First Stage of the Flame Path."

Gritting his teeth, Lin Jin endured the burning pain and carefully directed the fire toward his lower abdomen. It took nearly an hour, but eventually, a small, thumb-sized Flame Seed flickered to life within his dantian. It glowed with a faint purple light, its pulse steady and rhythmic, like a second heart beating inside him.

"I did it…" Lin Jin opened his eyes, a trace of excitement flashing across them. He could feel the change in his body—the presence of a power that, though weak, was undeniably real. Clenching his fists, he murmured, "First Stage of the Flame Path… I've finally stepped in."

"Don't get cocky," the old man scoffed. "In this realm, even an ant would scoff at a First Stage cultivator. That Heavenflame Pavilion you're after? They could send a single Flame Master to snuff you out like a candle. You want revenge? At the very least, you'll need to reach the Flame King Realm."

Lin Jin's excitement cooled, but his determination remained unshaken. He turned his gaze outside, where the small town lay in eerie silence under the moonlight. "Senior… What exactly is the Heavenflame Pavilion? Three years ago, why did they wipe out my Lin Clan?"

A brief silence. Then the old voice spoke slowly, "The Heavenflame Pavilion is one of the dominant forces in the central region of the Spirit Source Realm. They rule over multiple territories, and their ranks are filled with powerful cultivators—even those at the Flame Emperor level. As for why they destroyed your clan… I don't know. But…" The voice paused before adding, "Your Netherflame is likely connected to it."

Lin Jin's expression darkened. "The Netherflame… What exactly is it? You said it's one of the most mysterious flames in this world, but I've never heard of it before."

The old man let out a cold chuckle. "There are plenty of things in this world you've never heard of, boy. The Netherflame isn't a naturally occurring fire—it was created in ancient times by several Flame Emperors working together. It has the power to devour other flames, absorbing them as its own. Back in my prime, I dominated the Spirit Source Realm with it. Even the Flame Emperor of Heavenflame Pavilion feared me. But… I was ambushed and sealed within this flame, lingering on for a thousand years."

Lin Jin's heart trembled. This wisp of fire in his body… was that terrifying? He lowered his gaze to his palm, where the small flickering seed of the Netherflame lay. "If it can devour other flames… does that mean I can use it to grow stronger quickly?"

"In theory, yes," the old voice admitted. "But right now, you're too weak to devour anything stronger than a Third Stage flame. Try it now, and your body will burst like an overinflated pig bladder. First, strengthen yourself. Once you reach the Flame Master Realm, we can talk about devouring other flames."

Lin Jin took a deep breath, nodding firmly. If he had this power, then he finally had hope—hope to escape the fate of a mere scavenger, hope to rise above those who had mocked him, hope to take back everything that was stolen from him.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Lin Jin narrowed his eyes and spotted several figures approaching in the darkness. It was the gang of thugs he had beaten earlier. Leading them was Zhang Hu, his arm wrapped in a bloodstained cloth, and beside him stood a burly middle-aged man.

That man's aura was steady and powerful—he was at the Ninth Stage of the Flame Path.

"Lin Jin, you damn bastard!" Zhang Hu snarled, his eyes burning with hatred. "This time, you're dead! My father is here—he's going to cripple you!"

The burly man, Zhang Tieshan, shot Lin Jin a cold glance and sneered, "Boy, you wounded my son and dared to reveal a flame talent? You should have stayed a useless piece of trash. In Jinshi Town, my word is law. Tonight, I'll let you taste true despair."

Lin Jin clenched his fists. The pressure emanating from Zhang Tieshan made it clear—this was an opponent he had no chance of defeating.

"Scared?" The old man's voice carried a trace of amusement. "Good. Fear means you understand the gap in strength. But this is also an opportunity. Try out the first move I'm teaching you—'Netherflame Piercer.' It's a basic technique, but against someone like him… it might just work."

Lin Jin took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening. "Senior, guide me!"

"Focus on your Flame Seed. Gather the Netherflame at your fingertip. Compress it into a thin line—and strike his weak point!"

Zhang Tieshan smirked and stepped forward, a burning red flame forming in his palm. "I'll cripple you with one—"

Before he could finish, Lin Jin's right hand shot up. A flicker of dark purple flame condensed at his fingertip, forming an eerie, razor-thin streak of fire.

Then, he struck.

Zhang Tieshan's expression twisted in shock. The moment the Netherflame Piercer shot toward him, he instinctively tried to dodge, but it was too fast. A sizzling sound filled the air as the flame grazed his shoulder, burning through his flesh. His entire arm went numb as his attack collapsed.

"What… kind of flame is this?!" Zhang Tieshan staggered back, his face pale with disbelief.

Lin Jin, panting slightly, looked down at his trembling hand. This attack had drained nearly all his energy—but he had won.

"Leave," Lin Jin said coldly. "Next time, I won't be so merciful."

Zhang Tieshan gritted his teeth, but after a moment of hesitation, he turned and left with Zhang Hu and the others.

Lin Jin stood beneath the moonlight, gripping his fist. "Heavenflame Pavilion… just wait for me."

"Good ambition," the old voice chuckled. "Now, let's begin your true training."