Kai moved forward, each step measured and slow, his body still aching from the battle with the ghost of the healer. The heat of the first trial still lingered in his veins, like molten coals buried beneath his skin. And yet, a strange calm filled him now. He had faced a version of himself—one he had respected—and still stood.
The path ahead narrowed into a tunnel lined with obsidian shards that jutted from the walls like jagged fangs. They reflected no light, yet Kai could sense they pulsed faintly with spiritual energy—memories, emotions, fragments of the trials faced by others who had walked this path before him.
Then came the voice once more, deeper this time, layered with a thousand whispers.
"Trial Two: The Echoes That Bind."
A pulse of energy swept through the tunnel, and the walls shimmered. Suddenly, Kai stood not in the narrow passage—but in the courtyard of the First Flame Sect. The air was warm, the sky blue. Birds chirped. Laughter echoed from nearby halls.
His eyes widened. "An illusion?"
But it felt so real. The scent of incense. The flutter of robes. Then—
"Kai!"
He turned.
And saw her.
Lin Yue.
His childhood friend, the only person who had truly known him before his ascension. She stood barefoot on the practice field, holding a basket of spiritual herbs, her long black hair braided over one shoulder, a bright smile lighting up her face.
But she was dead.
Killed during the northern raids, years ago. He had held her body, felt her warmth fade.
Kai's throat tightened. "You're not real."
Yue tilted her head. "Not real? Then why do you remember the way I smiled when you brought me fire plums? Why do you still dream of the day we left the valley?"
He closed his eyes.
"I remember… because forgetting would dishonor you."
"Then why did you leave me behind?"
The voice was no longer hers.
The scene twisted.
Yue's form flickered, becoming shadowed and broken. Her eyes filled with tears of blood, her smile now an accusatory snarl.
"You swore you'd protect us, Kai," she whispered. "You let me die. You chose to live."
Flames erupted behind her. The courtyard burned. Screams echoed as the entire sect crumbled in an illusionary firestorm. Other figures rose from the blaze—people Kai had failed. Teachers. Comrades. Even enemies.
A tide of ghosts, each bearing a memory he had buried.
"You cannot ascend," they hissed together. "Not while the past binds your flame."
Kai stepped back, his heart pounding. Every face held truth, every voice a blade carved from guilt.
Then he drew his sword.
"I carry your voices," he said, voice shaking but resolute. "I don't deny you. But I will not let you decide who I become."
The ghost of Lin Yue stepped forward, her expression softer now.
"Then show us," she whispered. "Show us that our deaths meant something."
Kai closed his eyes, and his Flame Mark ignited once more, pulsing with deep, steady power. Instead of attacking, he knelt.
And bowed.
"To all I have lost," he murmured, "I vow to walk forward without forgetting."
Light surged from his mark, bathing the courtyard in warmth. The ghosts cried out—but not in rage. In release.
The illusion crumbled.
The tunnel returned.
"Trial Two… passed."
Kai remained kneeling for a moment, breathing deep. His heart still trembled—but the burden had grown lighter.
"Three trials remain."
He rose again, and walked deeper into the dark.