The chamber's silence was suffocating.
Kai stood frozen before the sarcophagus, the mark on his palm burning faintly, pulsing with an uneasy rhythm. The black stone coffin was unlike anything he had ever seen—veined with crimson lines that shimmered faintly, like blood frozen mid-flow. Its presence weighed on the soul, as if the very air recoiled from it.
Elder Jian's words echoed in his mind:
"The Founder lies here... and he's not at rest."
Kai turned to the elder. "You said the sect's legacy was a lie. Explain."
Jian looked older than he had moments ago, as though uttering the truth had drained something vital from him.
"Our sect was built on the ashes of rebellion," the elder began. "The First Flame Sect didn't rise to protect mortals or guide cultivators toward enlightenment. It was born from war—founded by a man who defied the Heavens themselves."
Kai's eyes narrowed. "You mean the Founder."
Jian nodded solemnly. "His name was Shen Mu. He wielded a power none could match. They say he reached beyond Ascension, into something higher—something forbidden."
Kai looked back at the sarcophagus, feeling its oppressive aura press against his mind like a storm cloud. "What happened to him?"
"He was sealed," Jian said, voice a whisper. "Not by enemies... but by his own disciples. They feared what he had become."
The flame mark on Kai's palm throbbed violently, and for a moment, the chamber seemed to shift. A whisper curled through the air—no voice, no words, just a pressure against the skull that promised madness.
Kai staggered back. "It's… alive."
Elder Jian didn't flinch. "The seal weakens. That's why the Crucible responded to you. You're not just a bearer of the flame now, Kai. You're a vessel for a choice."
Kai's fists clenched. "A choice?"
"To preserve the lie, or awaken the truth."
The elder's robes fluttered in an unseen wind. "We can seal it again. Hide the past. Or... we can prepare—for what's coming."
Kai looked down at the mark, then up at the sarcophagus. He didn't know if Shen Mu had been a savior or a monster. But he knew this: everything he thought he understood about the sect, his path, his destiny—it was built on a cracked foundation.
And now, the weight of that broken legacy rested on his shoulders.
Why me? he thought. Why was I chosen?
The answer came unbidden, not in words but in memory—the thousands of lives he had relived in the Crucible. Each one chosen. Each one consumed.
Because the flame never stopped searching.
Because the truth demanded a torchbearer.
Kai stepped forward and placed his palm on the sarcophagus. The flame mark shimmered with blinding light, and the entire chamber trembled.
A voice echoed in his mind, deep and cold and ancient.
"Child of ash... will you burn the past... or become it?"
Kai's jaw tightened. "I'll choose my own path."
The sarcophagus pulsed once.
Then fell silent.