The Temple's altar loomed like a monolith carved from shadow and sorrow. It pulsed with blood-red light, veins of corrupted spirit energy coiling around it like living serpents. At its peak stood a girl no older than ten, suspended by chains that hummed with divine binding force.
Her eyes were closed.
Her aura faint.
But within her chest, a core of searing flame flickered—delicate yet defiant.
"The Phoenix Vein," Vaen whispered as the four crouched behind a collapsed ridge. "She's still alive… but they've begun the Rite. We don't have long."
Jin Tao slid a blade from his wrist sheath. "I count fifteen guards. Three high priests. And that creepy robed one with the silver mask."
"An Inquisitor," Vaen hissed. "They harvest soul-threads. If he touches her core—she's gone."
Wang Lin's expression was carved in ice.
"No more waiting."
He rose.
Before the others could stop him, his aura exploded outward—dark, spiraling tendrils of the Abduction Path stretching across the battlefield like blooming lotus petals made of ink and flame.
The guards turned in panic. The priests began to chant.
Wang Lin vanished.
He reappeared atop the obelisk, directly between the girl and the Inquisitor.
"You again…" the Inquisitor hissed. "The one with the forbidden path."
Wang Lin's eyes burned gold. "This child is not your vessel."
"She is Heaven's Chosen. Her blood must serve the balance."
"She will choose her own fate."
The Inquisitor raised a hand.
A thousand spectral chains surged forward.
Wang Lin didn't dodge.
He stepped through them.
The Abduction Path didn't just absorb power now—it rewrote it.
The chains unraveled midair, becoming wind.
And then Wang Lin struck.
One palm. Clean. Blinding.
The Inquisitor's mask shattered, revealing a face Wang Lin never expected.
"You…" he gasped.
The man's eyes were identical to his own.
"You finally see," the Inquisitor whispered. "What you will become."
Wang Lin faltered.
Just for a breath.
And in that breath, pain erupted—pure, raw, soul-burning agony as the Inquisitor drove a curse seal directly into Wang Lin's chest.
"Let the Abduction Path consume you," he hissed. "Let it reclaim what Heaven stole."
But before the seal could root itself, a cry broke the skies.
A shriek of pure, eternal flame.
The girl awakened.
Her eyes opened—blazing golden-red, tears streaking down her cheeks.
She screamed.
The obelisk exploded.
Wang Lin felt it first—the surge of Phoenix fire not just burning the corruption, but cleansing his soul.
The curse seal turned to ash.
The Inquisitor staggered back, cloak aflame, his expression contorted in disbelief.
"No… not again… not the Flame of Mercy…!"
Wang Lin caught the girl as she fell.
Her body was small, weightless.
But her power? Immeasurable.
Behind him, Vaen, Lian Hua, and Jin Tao emerged from the smoke, blades drawn, a trail of fallen priests behind them.
"Retreat," the Inquisitor snarled, vanishing into shadows.
The rest of the Temple forces scattered.
Silence followed, broken only by the girl's whisper:
"My name… is Yan'er…"
Wang Lin looked at her, eyes softening. "You're safe now, Yan'er."
She clutched his sleeve. "They said I was a vessel. But I just wanted… to be free."
"You are," he promised.
As dawn broke over the burning altar ruins, casting crimson-gold light over their soot-covered faces, the four warriors and one girl stood together.
One flame had awakened.
And another — within Wang Lin — had changed.
No longer just the power to steal.
But to protect.
To save.
To defy Heaven itself.