The ancient winds roared across Spiritroot Valley as though mourning what had passed—and warning what was to come. Zhao Lianxu stood atop a crag of sun-blackened stone, the sigil burned into his right arm still seething with energy that neither the elements nor time could soothe. His companions were behind him, silent, weary, and wary. The valley before them was waking.
Spiritroot Valley was no mere basin of trees and rivers. It was a living entity, forged in the Pre-Heaven Era when the Sovereigns split the earth to bury a sin too great to name. Its soil pulsed like flesh; its trees exhaled whispers that could unravel the mind of the weak-hearted. It was here that the Phoenix Rebirth Array could be rekindled, where Zhao Lianxu's path to ascension might begin—or be forever sealed.
But even as the valley stirred, it was the fire in his bones that demanded attention. A fire old as his bloodline, angry as the sword in his soul.
"You can feel it too, can't you?" Mei Xueyan asked softly, stepping beside him. Her robes were torn, soaked from earlier rains and ghost-battles, but her presence was a balm against the oppressive magic. Her voice brought him back from the edges of inner abyss.
"Yes," Lianxu replied, jaw taut. "The sigil isn't dormant anymore. It's... awakening something else. Something buried."
Lan Yiren came next, twin blades across her back, her eyes hard with resolve. "The Guardian marked you. That means the Abyss watches us now. We need to be swift. The longer we linger, the more doors we open."
Yuan Chen coughed as he descended from a ridge, spiritual herbs clutched in his hands. "And some doors," he wheezed, "should stay shut. I can feel a resonance. Something old and incomplete is buried beneath this valley."
Mei Xueyan turned her gaze toward the center, where ancient monoliths jutted from the ground like broken ribs. The heart of the valley. "Then we do what we must. The Rebirth Array lies in the ruins of the Nine-Faced Temple. If we activate it, we may gain more than we lose."
Far from the valley, in the cold towers of Sky-Bound Palace, Princess Lingxi clutched the Nightthorn Blade to her chest. Each time she dreamed, she saw Zhao Lianxu's eyes—wounded, burning, questioning. Each time she woke, she remembered the blood.
Her court advisors had grown restless, her people wary. The Heavenly Mandate insisted she end what she began.
"The Tri-Blood must not ascend," whispered the Grand Seer, whose eyes were hollowed by decades of fate-reading. "He is the Balance-Breaker. Let him live, and the Divine Circle fractures."
But Lingxi had seen too many versions of the truth. She remembered the warmth of his hand, the tremble in his breath when he whispered her name. She remembered love.
Still, she tightened her grip on the blade.
In Spiritroot Valley, the party crossed into the stone labyrinth that led to the Nine-Faced Temple. The air thickened with each step, heavy with spiritual density and secrets long unspoken.
At the gate stood a creature with skin like molten ore and eyes like dying stars. A Guardian Spirit—bound to protect the temple from the unworthy.
"Only one of true sacrifice may enter," the spirit declared, its voice echoing with ancient power. "What will you relinquish, Zhao Lianxu?"
He didn't hesitate. "The memory of my father."
Mei gasped. Lan Yiren's eyes narrowed.
"You would give up your lineage?"
"No," he replied. "Just the memory. I'll still carry the blood. But not the comfort. Not the wisdom. Not the love. That part... it holds me back."
The spirit considered his offer. Then it stepped aside.
Inside, the temple shimmered with illusion and history. Nine statues lined the hall, each a face of the Divine Phoenix—Wrath, Mercy, Balance, Chaos, Life, Death, Hope, Despair, and Flame. In the center: a pedestal of scorched crystal.
Zhao Lianxu approached, placing his hand upon the crystal. Instantly, energy surged up his arm, tracing the new sigil, igniting every bloodline within him. He screamed as memories not his own flooded in—visions of the cultivator who sealed the Tianmo World, of wars that broke galaxies, of love betrayed and redemption denied.
And in the depths of that vision, he saw her.
Lingxi.
Her sword. Her tears. Her heartbeat.
"Zhao Lianxu," a voice whispered in his mind. It was the Phoenix Flame itself, ancient and infinite. "Do you seek power, or do you seek truth?"
"I want to protect what remains. And destroy what poisons it."
The pedestal pulsed. Light flared.
Behind him, the others chanted the Rebirth Sutra, blood dripping into the glyphs etched in the floor. The temple responded. Flame erupted from every statue. The Phoenix Array blazed to life, drawing energy from each realm.
Zhao Lianxu rose, his cloak aflame, eyes glowing. The fire had fused with him—not just one element, but all five. His 5 Elemental Body roared to the surface.
But so did something else.
Darkness.
It slid beneath his skin, an ancient whisper waking. The Abyss, watching through the sigil. Something darker than even the Demon Realm had imagined.
A crack split the temple floor. Shadows spiraled upward.
And from the chasm rose an echo of himself. A doppelganger formed from fear and fury—a twisted version of Zhao Lianxu, born of his darkest moment.
"To ascend," it said, "you must defeat me. Not with might. With truth."
Thus began the trial not of power—but of identity.
Meanwhile, Empress Lianhua watched from her scrying pool. Her laughter was cold.
"The Abyss has begun its claim. Soon he will either be ours... or gone."
Back at the temple, Lianxu faced himself. The doppelganger taunted, "You grieve the ones you've lost. But you let them die. You love Mei, but still dream of Lingxi. You wield light and dark, yet deny both. Who are you really?"
He dropped his sword.
"I am not perfect. I am not whole. But I am real. And I fight for them—not for power, not for legacy, but because I must."
The doppelganger hesitated. Then it crumbled into dust.
The shadows retreated. The light dimmed. The array sealed.
Zhao Lianxu stood alone at the center of the ruins, his companions watching silently. Mei stepped forward and took his hand.
"You are ready now," she whispered.
He nodded.
But his eyes turned east, to the distant Sky-Bound Palace, where love and fate awaited.
And in the sky above, the first signs of a new era shimmered.