In a modest yet tidy room on the upper floor of a quiet inn, nestled within the heart of the imperial city, a faint flicker of light danced across the walls. The morning sun hadn't yet risen fully, but the room was already glowing with a warm radiance.
Xiao Yan slowly stirred from his meditative state, his body drenched in a thin sheen of sweat. Around him, the temperature fluctuated unnaturally—cool one moment, blazing the next. He opened his eyes.
A low murmur escaped his lips as he looked down at the crackling golden flames coiled gently around him like an obedient serpent. "So... I've refined it."
The fire was unlike any he had seen before. It shimmered with both authority and elegance, its core golden with subtle streaks of amethyst that twirled and danced like veins of crystal. The pressure it gave off was suffocating, yet Xiao Yan sat in the heart of the flame completely untouched.
"This... it's not an ordinary Beast Flame," he muttered, holding out his palm as the golden fire formed a miniature lotus, hovering slightly above his skin. "It must be at least a seventh-grade Beast Flame..."
He paused, eyes glinting with curiosity and pride. "Golden Amethyst Flame," he named it, a smile touching his lips. "That suits you."
The presence of the flame wasn't the only change he felt. His Dou Qi surged in his veins, refined and denser than before. He closed his eyes briefly to check his cultivation level and grinned.
"Sixth star Dou Grandmaster..." His voice carried disbelief and triumph. "Looks like refining that flame pushed me further than expected."
Standing up from the meditation mat, he stretched slowly. His body felt lighter than ever, as though the very limits holding him back had been burned away by the intense trial he endured to refine the beast flame. He moved to the corner of the room where a long black robe hung neatly.
It wasn't just any robe. This one had been prepared specifically for this day.
He slipped into it slowly. The robe was deep black, trimmed with elegant golden-red curls that spiraled along the sleeves and collar. The lower hem shimmered with faint whitish-blue patterns, embroidered like drifting clouds on a calm night sky. He glanced at himself in the bronze mirror hanging beside the bed.
His hair was longer now, and he tied it back into a clean ponytail using a black ribbon, letting two strands of his inky hair fall naturally on either side of his face. They framed his now-sharpened features—jawline defined, eyes clear and burning like molten gold under the influence of the flame.
He looked... older. Stronger. Regal, even.
"I should have dressed like this in my past life," he chuckled, admiring his appearance. "Guess confidence needs strength to bloom."
With a final glance around the room, Xiao Yan flicked his sleeves and stepped out onto the small balcony. The city was still waking up, but his direction was already clear. In the distance, shrouded by a veil of clouds, the towering silhouette of Yun Lan Zong's mountain range pierced the skies.
"Three years..." he whispered, and then with a flap of his back, a pair of majestic eagle wings spread open from his Dou Qi-clad back. With a low hum, he rose into the skies, streaking toward his destiny like a comet.
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The Next Day — Yun Lan Zong
The skies above the Yun Lan Zong mountain range were clear and bright, yet the air buzzed with tension. A vast circular arena, carved out from the peak of the mountain, was surrounded by hundreds of seats filled with spectators—disciples, nobles, sect representatives, and powerful elders from all corners of the empire.
At the highest seat in the middle of the grand platform sat an elder in pristine white robes.
"I am Yun Leng, the great elder of Yun Lan Zong," the elderly man announced with a calm, commanding voice, his aged face holding both pride and dignity. "I welcome all honored guests here today."
One by one, the guests stood and offered respectful bows, greeting the elder with solemnity. There was no mistaking the weight this day carried.
After all, the battle they were here to witness wasn't just any duel. It was a battle born from an oath—a promise of revenge and a challenge of fate. The infamous three-year agreement between Nalan Yanran, the pride of Yun Lan Zong, and Xiao Yan, the once-disgraced scion of the Xiao family.
Among the honored seats, Mu Chen of the Mu Family leaned closer to an elderly man whose brows were furrowed in silent thought. "Old Nalan," Mu Chen whispered with a smirk, "do you think your granddaughter will win?"
Nalan Jie, the old man addressed, sighed softly. His eyes wandered across the arena. His memories drifted back to his long-lost friend, Xiao Lin—the former head of the Xiao family, now gone.
"I want to say yes," Nalan Jie replied after a moment. "But the Xiao family... they've always been full of surprises."
Elsewhere on the platform, a figure clad in alchemist robes descended gently from the sky. Murmurs immediately rose from the crowd.
"Dan Wang Gu He!" someone exclaimed. "The famed Pill King is here!"
The man landed gracefully, his noble bearing immediately drawing attention. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, pausing briefly when they caught a familiar figure—a man with snow-white hair and a calm, ageless gaze.
"Hai Bo Dong?" Gu He asked, slightly taken aback.
The white-haired man gave a faint smile. "I am Hai Bo Dong. It's been a long time, Gu He."
"I thought you vanished," Gu He responded, walking over with genuine surprise. "The Ice Emperor himself returns just for this match?"
"How could I miss it?" Hai Lao said with a soft laugh. "This battle might shake the empire's future."
Before Gu He could respond, a sudden hush fell over the crowd.
Footsteps echoed from the edge of the arena.
All eyes turned.
A lone figure entered—his steps calm, composed, and full of confidence. Dressed in flowing black robes adorned with fiery gold and crimson, his black hair fluttering lightly in the mountain breeze, Xiao Yan strode into the arena.
He looked neither like a boy nor a fledgling cultivator.
He looked like a storm waiting to be unleashed.