The Fire That Remembers

The first strike shattered the silence like thunder splitting the heavens. Wei Feng barely raised his arms in time, his gauntlets catching the blow of the crimson blade—but the force hurled him backwards, crashing through a pillar of molten crystal.

Lin Yue sprinted forward, weaving spirit runes mid-air, her eyes burning with jade light. "I'll buy you time!" she yelled.

But even her speed was no match for the figure's precision. He moved with the certainty of someone who knew her every weakness.

"He's not just fighting," Wei Feng whispered, rising from the rubble. "He's teaching."

"Teaching?" Lin Yue snarled, barely dodging a soul-scorching arc.

Wei Feng stood, eyes narrowing. The heat, the pressure, the strange rhythm of the flame—it was the Bloodroot style. But deeper. Raw. Undiluted.

Ancient.

Each motion told a story. Each attack whispered warnings.

He stepped forward, finally matching the cadence. One strike, then another. His body remembered before his mind did—ancestral muscle memory unlocked by flame and fear.

Then, it happened.

The moment his fist met the phantom blade mid-swing, the crystal around them erupted in a spiraling cyclone of light and fire. Everything froze. Even time seemed to bow.

The figure—his father—faded slowly. Not defeated. Satisfied.

"You remember now," the voice echoed again.

"Then carve your own legacy."

Wei Feng collapsed to one knee. Lin Yue caught his shoulder, helping him up.

"You okay?"

He smiled faintly. "I am now."

Then a rumble shook the ground. The hall cracked open—revealing a path descending deeper, into a core of pulsing flame.

The trial wasn't over.

It had only begun.

---