The Shanghai dusk settled over the city's industrial fringe, the van's headlights cutting through the haze as it rolled back into Chen Rui's alley. Feng Ruoxi sat rigid in the passenger seat, her dark hair tangled from the highway wind, the phoenix tattoo on her wrist glowing faintly—"The fire rises…"—its pulse a restless beat in her veins. Her chest ached from Kyoto's scars, her fire simmering beneath her skin, but her eyes burned with a resolve that had claimed one city and now faced Beijing's shadows. Liang Mei's words—cousin, rebel, hunter—echoed in her mind, a pendant of jade tying her to Pang Yuwei, her mother. Trust hung thin, but the stakes were rising.