The van roared along the highway north from Shanghai, its engine a low growl cutting through the midday haze, the city's neon sprawl shrinking in the rearview. Feng Ruoxi sat in the passenger seat, her dark hair whipping in the wind from a cracked window, the phoenix tattoo on her wrist glowing faintly—"The fire rises…"—its whisper now a steady pulse in her veins. Her chest ached from Kyoto's battles, her fire simmering beneath her skin, but her eyes burned with a focus that had torched one city and now aimed for Beijing. The rooftop scout's glint lingered in her mind—pursuit closing in, Tianhua's shadow stretching longer than she'd feared.