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A suffocating darkness surrounded him—an abyss of endless black fog that slithered and churned like a living thing, swallowing all light, all sound, all presence. Floating within it, Xiao Yan's body hung suspended as if time and space had abandoned him.
"Where... am I?" he whispered, his voice lost within the void.
Even his own words sounded like echoes from a dying world, vanishing before they could reach him. His heartbeat slowed, senses dulled, and for a terrifying instant, he felt as though he no longer existed. No body. No soul. Just a flickering consciousness drifting in a place that should not exist.
And yet—he remained.
Whoosh!
A sudden gale of radiant golden light split the fog apart like a blade cleaving silk. It wasn't warm—it was absolute. Primordial. Divine. Like the will of the heavens descending to reclaim what fate had momentarily lost.
Xiao Yan's eyes widened, but even before he could reach out, everything was consumed in a pure, blinding white.
Then—silence.
---
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The soft, rhythmic sound of water leaking onto wood echoed in the quiet room.
Xiao Yan stirred with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers twitched against the coarse grain of the wooden bed, limbs heavy as if shackled by lead. Sweat clung to his skin. His bare chest rose and fell erratically as his lungs struggled to catch up with his racing thoughts.
He bolted upright.
Eyes sharp, mind groggy.
"Again... What was that?" he muttered, rubbing his temples, brows furrowed in frustration.
It was the third time this week. The third time he had been pulled into that wretched realm of void—no, not just a dream. He was sure of it now. It was a fragment of something real. A memory? A sealed realm? Or perhaps a sliver of something greater that even his current comprehension could not reach.
But he didn't have the luxury to dwell.
Memories surged back, sharp and fast—Hun Tiandi, the final clash, the broken sky… the soul contract forged in desperation. A pact that saved the world but shattered his existence.
He clenched his fists. A quiet crack resounded as his knuckles strained, veins bulging.
His gaze scanned the small room. A low table sat in the corner, dust gathering in its grooves. A cracked ceramic teapot, long dried out, still stood upright as if waiting for its master to return. Thin shafts of sunlight filtered through the wooden shutters, casting strips of light across the worn floorboards.
Then he realized.
"…This inn… Imperial Capital of Jia Ma Empire."
Yes. The nostalgic familiarity struck like a gentle wave. He had stayed here once. Long ago, as a teenager. Before Yun Lanzong. Before the ancient tombs. Before the Heavenly Flames and the battle with the Hall of Souls.
But that youth was gone.
Now, the man sitting in this room was one who had seen the apex of the continent… and fallen.
Focusing inward, his spiritual perception swept through his meridians. His soul core, once radiant and stable, now flickered erratically—like a dying star refusing to be extinguished.
"…Dou Grandmaster realm," he murmured bitterly.
From a peak Dou Sovereign to this. Even the fall to a Heavenly State soul was a catastrophe. A plunge that should have killed any ordinary cultivator.
But he wasn't ordinary.
His foundation, honed through hellish trials, stood firm. His understanding of cultivation, his mastery of fire, alchemy, battle—none of it was lost. If anything, this downfall stripped away complacency. His body was wounded, but his will remained unbroken.
Like a blade dulled in battle but reforged through suffering.
Then his eyes fell to his right arm.
Coiled delicately there was a tiny, snow-white serpent, its fragile body pulsing with life.
"Xiao Xiao…" he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
This serpent wasn't just a companion. It was his daughter. His and Cai Lin's.
A pang of longing shot through his chest. He could still remember Cai Lin's fierce beauty, the quiet moments they shared beneath the moonlight, her prideful gaze softening only for him. And Xiao Xiao's tiny laugh, her hands reaching up to grasp his robe, those curious violet eyes—
He swallowed hard, brushing the serpent's scales with trembling fingers.
"Cai Lin… I'll find you both. I swear it."
There was no time to wallow in weakness. No space for fear or doubt. He had walked the line between life and death too many times to hesitate now.
His mind sharpened.
Soul injuries. Cultivation unstable.
But with his soul strength—even fractured—he could still forcefully reach the power of a peak Dou Zong for short bursts. Dangerous, unsustainable… but possible.
He needed more. He needed an edge.
Then it hit him.
"Beast Fires."
The idea struck like lightning. His brows knitted in intense focus.
"Seven or more 4th-grade Beast Flames... fused and devoured."
He could feel it—the power, the risk, the potential. He wouldn't just stabilize. He'd leap forward. Perhaps even touch the 6-Star Dou Grandmaster level in one breakthrough.
Unlike Heavenly Flames, which were scarce and guarded by ancient beasts and tombs, Beast Flames were wild and scattered. Dangerous but attainable. And with his past experience and techniques, he could integrate them into the Life Transforming Flame.
Why hadn't he thought of this before?
Maybe he had been too focused on the divine. Too obsessed with the pinnacle. But now, stripped of glory, the path beneath him looked clearer.
He smiled bitterly.
"At my peak, I could've bought empires. Now, I'll settle for flames."
He stood, his muscles groaning in protest. He reached for his black robe, its edges still embroidered with faded crimson thread. It no longer bore the weight of a Sovereign, but he wore it now with quiet pride.
He looked into the dust-flecked mirror on the far wall.
No longer the boy who had once begged for a single technique.
No longer the emperor of fire who stood above all.
Now, he was something else. A man rebuilt. A blade reforged.
And his first destination?
The black markets of the Inner Empire.
The Beast Flame dens in the Southern Range.
The secret auction houses in the Black-Corner Region.
His resources, his contacts, his reputation—all still lingered. He would use every ounce of it. Not just to regain what was lost, but to ascend beyond it.
"To rise again…" he said softly, tying the robe with calm finality, "I will burn the heavens if I must."
And with that, he stepped out the door.
The road ahead was long. But Xiao Yan had walked through hell once before.
This time, he would own it.