The Rift of Ashen Flame closed behind them with a soundless shudder, like a wound on the world slowly stitching itself shut. For a breathless moment, no one spoke. The survivors stood in the scorched clearing beyond the Rift's mouth, their bodies cut and bruised, their spirits stretched thin by the trials endured. Yet in Ruoxue's hand, the Emberlight relic pulsed faintly, bathing them all in its warm, golden shimmer.
It should have been comforting.
Instead, the relic's glow set their nerves on edge.
The Emberlight relic was small—no larger than a clenched fist—yet its shape defied clarity. At one angle, it resembled a lotus in bloom; shift a step to the side, and it became a burning shard of crystal; tilt your head, and it looked like an eye, unblinking, aware. Its light was alive, a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the very blood in their veins.
At moonlight. It pulsed. Refusing any sleep.
Ruoxue held it tightly, her knuckles pale. Every thrum of its pulse resonated in her chest, a strange mix of exhilaration and dread rising with each beat.
Yin Xiu stepped closer, his gaze fixed on the relic. "Seal it," he said quietly, though the weight in his voice carried like thunder. "The longer it breathes in open air, the more it stirs unseen things."
She nodded and lifted her hand, weaving a quick seal. Yet as the layers of her spiritual energy wrapped around the Emberlight, the relic resisted. Its light dimmed only slightly, as though mocking the effort.
"Not fully bound…" She whispered.
She Yucheng let out a low laugh, though there was no humor in it. His white robes were torn at the shoulder, exposing blood and burns, yet his sharp, arrogant eyes still gleamed. "Did you expect otherwise? A relic said to have been born from the ashes of an ancient god is not a trinket to be pocketed. If it were so easily suppressed, a thousand sects would not have lost disciples in pursuit of it."
"Your tongue is quick for someone who nearly died within," Qiao Feiyan muttered, dark eyes narrowing. He rested the curve of his glaive against his shoulder, his tall frame still radiating the disciplined aura of a general. "Mock less, Xuran. Contribute more."
"Enough," Lian Huiming cut in softly. She always spoke like a drifting breeze—never harsh, never forceful—yet it carried a strange weight that made others pause. Her pale pink robes were stained, her hair half undone, but her calm eyes were unwavering. "We survived where many did not. Don't waste what little strength remains in quarrels."
The group fell quiet, though the tension lingered.
Mo Xueran stood slightly apart from the others, arms crossed, her long hair damp with sweat. She had not spoken since leaving the Rift. Her eyes were on Ruoxue—not the relic, not Yin Xiu, but Ruoxue herself. A sharp, measuring gaze that pressed like a blade without being drawn.
Ruoxue felt it, though she did not return the look. She tightened her seal and finally tucked the Emberlight relic within a jade coffer that shimmered faintly with defensive inscriptions. The coffer hummed as it closed, but the heartbeat-like pulse could still be felt faintly through its surface.
"We should move," Yin Xiu said. His gaze scanned the horizon. The Rift's opening lay within the Ashen Plains, a wasteland of blackened earth and lingering flame where no bird flew and no grass dared to grow. "This place is not safe. The relic's presence will draw attention."
Lian Huiming, normally quiet, gave a grim nod. His robes were singed, and he leaned slightly on a long staff etched with runes, yet his calmness seemed unshaken. "The Nine Courts themselves will feel its awakening. Best we decide quickly where to head—or if we scatter."
That single word—scatter—sent a ripple through the group.
Scatter. Separate. Divide.
Ruoxue's chest tightened. She had known this moment would come. Trials bound people together only as long as the danger lingered. Once the dust settled, loyalties cracked, and ambition rose.
Her gaze flickered across each of them:
Feng Yulan, serene yet unreadable.
Lian Huiming, rational, with thoughts that ran deep as wells.
Qiao Feiyan, firm and pragmatic, bound by duty like steel.
She Yucheng, reckless and proud, hungry for recognition.
Mo Xuran, sharp-eyed, her silence more dangerous than words.
And beside her, always near, stood Yin Xiu.
He was quiet, unreadable as ever, yet his presence anchored her. It was only his eyes, when they glanced her way, that softened the sharp edge of his demeanor.
"Scatter?"She Yucheng scoffed at Lian Huiming's suggestion. "And who, pray, will walk away with the relic then? Should we draw lots? Or perhaps let dear Ruoxue keep it, as though fate alone appointed her?" His words were mocking, but the glint in his eyes was deadly serious.
"She bears it because the relic chose her," Yin Xiu said coolly, stepping forward. "Unless you mean to challenge that choice?"
The air thickened.
She Yucheng smirked, but he didn't answer immediately. His hand, however, drifted toward the hilt of his sword.
Ruoxue felt the Emberlight stir faintly in response, as though it hungered for conflict. Her breath hitched. No… not here. Not so soon.
"Enough," Qiao Feiyan spoke again, firmer this time. "If we turn blades on each other before leaving these plains, the relic will be our grave, not our prize. Have you all forgotten the screams of those who failed within?"
Silence followed her words, heavy as stone.
One by one, gazes lowered or turned away. She Yucheng released his grip from his sword.
But the seed of distrust had been planted.
The plains of Ashen flame.
They walked in uneasy silence. The plains stretched endlessly, a barren ocean of cracked black earth veined with faint crimson glow, as though fire still slumbered beneath. Smoke rose in distant plumes, and every breath tasted of cinders. The relic's faint pulse beat against Ruoxue's chest with each step, like a second heart that belonged not to her but to something older, vaster, untamed.
At times, the sound of footsteps shuffled closer, a voice breaking the silence.
"Qiao Feiyan," Lian Huiming murmured at one point, "when we leave the plains, what then? Return to our sects and proclaim we've seized a god's relic? Or hide what we bear and risk being hunted as traitors?"
The soldier's jaw tightened. "Duty compels honesty. Yet wisdom may demand silence. I have yet to decide."
"And you, Feiyan?" Huiming asked.
She glanced at him, serene as ever. "Relics of gods are not treasures to flaunt. I will wait and see who dares reach for it."
"Wise," Huiming murmured.
Ruoxue pretended not to listen, but each word fell heavy in her mind.
The relic pulsed harder, as though it relished their hesitation, their quiet doubts. It drank in it. It caused it after all.
That night, they made camp among broken stones where the earth split into a jagged scar. A faint fire burned, though its warmth felt thin against the chill seeping from the relic.
The group ate in silence untill She Yucheng finally spoke again.
"I'll say it plainly," he announced, tossing a charred twig into the flames. "We should decide ownership now. If the relic truly 'chose' Ruoxue, let her prove it by binding it. If she cannot, then fate's choice is flawed."
The fire crackled.
Yin Xiu's gaze sharpened, but Ruoxue lifted a hand to stop him before he could speak. She met She Yucheng's eyes directly. "And if I succeed?"
His smirk returned. "Then I'll kneel and call you chosen."
Her heart drummed. Not from fear, but from the relic's sudden, eager pulse. It wanted this. It wanted to be touched, tested, claimed.
She exhaled slowly. "Very well."
Lifting the jade coffer, she undid the seals. The Emberlight relic rose into the air, spinning slowly, its glow casting shifting shadows over their faces.
The heartbeat quickened.
Ruoxue pressed her palms together, weaving seals. Spiritual energy surged, threads of light wrapping the relic. Yet every attempt to enclose it unraveled like sand through fingers. The relic pulsed harder, resisting, rejecting, almost laughing.
Her breath grew sharp, sweat beading at her brow. She dug deeper, summoning not only her cultivated strength but the faint, elusive memory that stirred when she first calmed the quake weeks ago—something that felt ancient, like an echo of another self.
The relic flickered, its form shifting faster now—lotus, crystal, eye, flame—until it stilled.
And for a heartbeat, silence.
Then—
BOOM.
A shockwave burst outward. The campfire nearly snuffed out. Everyone staggered back, shielding their eyes. The relic's light pierced the night sky, a beacon no one could miss.
Ruoxue fell to one knee, panting. The relic hovered above her hands, quiet now… subdued, but not bound.
"It accepted you," Qiao Feiyan whispered, awe and wariness mixing in her tone.
"Not fully," Ruoxue rasped. Her hands trembled. "It yielded… only for now."
She Yucheng's smirk had vanished. He looked at her with something sharper—envy, or perhaps fear.
Mo Xuran's eyes never left Ruoxue. For the first time, she spoke. "The relic tests its vessel. If you falter, it will consume you."
Her voice was low, quiet, but it slid like a blade beneath the skin.
Ruoxue met her gaze. "Then I won't falter."
The relic pulsed once, as if in response.
*******
The moon rose high above the jagged ridges of Wuheng Mountain, its pale glow washing over the surviving nine like a veil of silver. The night was silent but heavy — the kind of sileEnce that prickled on the skin and warned of things unseen. They had left the Rift of Ashen Flame behind, but its residue clung to them still, more haunting than smoke.
The Emberlight Relic, nestled within its obsidian casing, pulsed faintly in the center of their makeshift camp. Each thrum of its light seemed to echo inside the hearts of those who gazed upon it. What had once been triumph now felt like burden, and though no one spoke it outright, the relic was becoming less a treasure and more a wedge.
Ruoxue sat quietly near the fire, her sword lying across her lap. The flames licked upwards, sending sparks into the dark, but her eyes never left the relic. She could feel its call — gentle yet insistent, like an ember whispering in her blood. The sensation unsettled her, but what disturbed her more was the way her companions' eyes lingered on it.
Mo Xuran, with his usual sharp-edged elegance, leaned against a boulder, his hand resting near his blade. He said little, but his silence had a weight to it, a quiet assertion that he would not be outmaneuvered should things turn sour.
Feng Yulan was different. He circled near the relic too often, like a wolf pacing the boundaries of its territory. His scholarly demeanor, once calm, had grown brittle; his words carried an edge that hadn't been there before.
She Yucheng, pragmatic and proud, tried to mask his unease with dry remarks, but his occasional glance at the relic betrayed the same hunger.
And then there was Lian Huiming — usually composed — who had begun to ask too many questions, each one brushing the edges of distrust: Who should hold the relic? Who decides when it should be used? Who among them had the right?
Qiao Feiyan, though quieter, was no less tense. Her gaze flickered between Ruoxue and Yinxiu, as though silently weighing who among them would bend first if the group fractured.
It was Yinxiu who finally broke the silence.
"We retrieved the Emberlight together," he said, his voice even but carrying the steel of command. "It belongs to all of us, not to one hand. Until its purpose is revealed, it will remain sealed."
She Yucheng's lip curled faintly. "Fine words, Yinxiu. But who guards the seal? You? Or her?" His gaze cut toward Ruoxue, sharp and unkind.
Ruoxue lifted her eyes, meeting his stare without flinching. "If you think I covet it, you are wrong. The relic has a will of its own. It will not bow to anyone's greed."
Feng Yulan gave a soft, mirthless laugh. "Greed, she says. As though none of us feel its pull." His fingers drummed lightly against his sword hilt. "We'd be fools to pretend otherwise."
The fire cracked. The silence that followed pressed against them like stone.
Hours passed, but the tension did not ease. Sleep came fitfully, if at all. Ruoxue lay awake, staring at the faint light of the relic through her lashes. She thought of Mother Bi's lessons — that power without restraint was destruction in disguise. Yet here she was, among those who had bled with her, who had nearly died with her in the Rift, and she could see already how power was unraveling the threads of their bond.
She turned her head slightly and saw Yinxiu seated some distance away, his posture straight, his eyes never leaving the relic. The moonlight silvered his profile, lending him the air of an untouchable sentinel. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if the weight on his shoulders was heavier than he allowed anyone to see.
The air shifted suddenly — subtle, but enough to raise the hairs on her neck. Ruoxue's hand flew to her sword just as a ripple of spiritual pressure washed through the camp.
Yinxiu's voice was quiet, but firm. "We are being watched."
The others roused quickly, hands flying to weapons, eyes narrowing into the darkness. From beyond the circle of firelight came a slow, deliberate clap.
"Well said," a voice drawled. "Though I must say, your vigilance is almost wasted. You've brought the Emberlight out of its prison, and now the world will come to you."
Figures emerged from the treeline — cloaked, their faces hidden behind masks of hammered bronze. At least seven of them, each radiating an aura that marked them as cultivators of considerable strength.
Mo Xuran hissed between his teeth. "Vultures."
The leader tilted his head, mask gleaming in the firelight. "Call us what you wish. That relic is no longer yours to keep. Hand it over, and perhaps we will leave your corpses intact."
She Yucheng barked a laugh, sharp as a blade. "Try and take it."
And the night shattered into chaos.
The battle that followed was fierce, but unlike the dangers of the Rift, this was no blind struggle against beasts or fire-born shadows — this was human malice sharpened by greed. Blades clashed, sparks flew, and the ground shook with bursts of spiritual power.
Ruoxue fought with precision, each swing of her sword clean and deliberate. She remembered Mother Bi's teachings: Strike not for fury, but for clarity. Let your blade be the mirror of your will.
Beside her, Yinxiu moved like water, his strikes flowing seamlessly from defense to offense. His calm presence was an anchor amidst the storm, though even he could not disguise the ferocity in his gaze whenever the enemy pressed too close to the relic.
Mo Xuran's fury burned brighter than reason, his attacks reckless yet devastating. Feng Yulan fought with cold efficiency, each motion carrying the weight of lethal intent. Lian Huiming and Qiao Feiyan coordinated with sharp precision, covering one another's blind spots, though tension flickered between them even in the heat of combat.
The masked intruders were skilled, but they underestimated the unity born of survival. One by one, they faltered under the combined strength of the nine.
When the final masked man fell, gasping into the dirt, silence reclaimed the night. Their breaths came heavy, their bodies bore cuts and bruises, but the relic — untouched — still pulsed faintly in its obsidian shell.
Yinxiu sheathed his blade, his expression unreadable. "This was only the beginning. The Emberlight has already drawn eyes upon us. If we remain divided, we will not survive what comes next."
His words hung in the air, undeniable and sharp as truth.
Ruoxue glanced around the circle of weary faces. The relic glowed faintly between them, its light neither bright nor dim — as though mocking the fragile alliance it had birthed.
Mother Bi… if you could see me now, she thought, her chest tight. How do I keep us from breaking apart before the world breaks us first?
And as the fire guttered low, the night stretched long and uncertain, carrying the promise of trials yet to come.
----
The night bled slowly into the horizon, but within the mountain hollow where the group had chosen to rest, darkness did not feel natural—it clung too thickly, heavy with the weight of the Emberlight Relic. Its glow, faint and golden when first retrieved, had now taken on a restless, pulsing rhythm. Each beat seemed to echo against their hearts.
Ruoxue sat cross-legged beneath a crooked pine tree, her sword resting across her knees. The relic floated above a stone slab in the center of their encampment, and every so often its light brushed across her face, illuminating the quiet worry in her eyes.
The five survivors—Qiao Feiyan, Lian Huiming, She Yucheng, Mo Xuran, and Feng Yulan—kept their distance from it. They were battle-scarred from the Rift, their robes still torn in places, and though the air outside the Rift of Ashen Flame should have been fresh, none of them breathed easily. And the exhaustion of the recent challenge brought weary to their minds.
Yinxiu, ever composed, leaned against a boulder. His long hair spilled down his robes like a cascade of ink, and his gaze was fixed on the relic, sharp and unreadable.
"Three days," he finally said, voice low. "That is how long it has been since we emerged. Yet the relic's resonance grows stronger. If this continues, we will not be able to conceal it much longer. Others will sense it. We have already fought a few, what more many?"
She Yucheng exhaled harshly, his usually steady demeanor frayed. "We bled in that hellish Rift, lost two of our own, and now you tell me we cannot even claim what we suffered for? What do you suggest, Yinxiu? That we bury it in the dirt?"
Qiao Feiyan shot him a sharp look. Her fan flicked open with a snap, the painted plum blossoms swaying as she tapped it against her palm. "Reckless words will not guide us. The relic is no mere trinket. If what the ancient scrolls said is true, the Emberlight can alter fate itself. Would you so easily abandon such power?"
Her tone was sweet, almost coaxing, but beneath it lay steel.
She Yucheng sneered. His spear lay across his lap, its tip gleaming faintly in the relic's glow. "And who shall decide whose fate it alters? Yours? Mine? Or will we all stand here like fools, watching it devour us one by one?"
The tension sparked like flint against stone.
Ruoxue opened her eyes. "Enough."
Her voice was not raised, but it cut through the camp like a blade. The arguments faltered, leaving only the restless thrum of the relic.
She rose slowly, her sword sliding back into its sheath with a soft click. Her gaze swept over each of them—not with arrogance, but with a calm resolve that unsettled them more than fury would have.
"This relic does not belong to one hand," she said. "It was won by all of us, at the cost of lives we will never see again. If you quarrel like children over scraps of pride, then the Emberlight will consume you long before any enemy arrives. Don't you get it. It's still testing us. Our unison brought our first and second win. Reason it hasn't swallowed us all is because deep down we know what happened there. The Nine Court , the rift and this Emberlight... there are all testing us. If we falter, we perish. If we stand together, everything we stand for would be worth it, this would no longer be a weapon pointed at us, but against all who would think bad."
For a long silence, no one spoke. Then Feng Yulan stirred. The youngest among them, her face was pale, her hands clenched at her sides. "Ruoxue is right," she whispered. "When I touch the relic's aura, it feels… wrong. Heavy. As if it wishes to pit us against one another. Perhaps that is its true nature."
Lian Huiming finally spoke, voice quiet but steady. "The Emberlight was said to be forged during the wars of the gods, was it not? Then perhaps its purpose is not to grant mortals peace, but to test them—to divide the unworthy until only the strongest remains."
The words landed like stones in their hearts.
She Yucheng spat into the dirt. "Then let it test us. I, for one, do not fear a trial."
Yinxiu's eyes narrowed slightly. "And yet trials are not always fought with blades, She Yucheng. Some are fought within. Ask yourself: are you certain you can endure what it demands?"
The fire crackled between them, the shadows dancing longer, sharper.
Ruoxue turned back toward the relic. Its golden light trembled, as if mocking them. Somewhere deep inside, a faint echo stirred within her—a voice, too soft to name, whispering like smoke. Remember…
Her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword. She did not flinch, but the unease grew roots in her chest.
For the rest of the night, no one slept.
---
At dawn, when the mist rolled across the valley, they set out again. The relic, veiled in layers of sealing talismans, was carried by Yinxiu himself. But even through the seals, its pulse beat against their bones, a reminder of the power they carried—and the price it demanded.
By the second day of travel, their silence had sharpened into something more dangerous than words. She Yucheng's temper simmered, Feng Yulan's watchfulness grew taut, and Qiao Feiyan's smiles hid calculations too swift to catch.
Only Ruoxue's resolve, and Yinxiu's steady presence, kept the group from fracturing. Yet beneath the fragile unity, the Emberlight Relic pulsed on…