The path ahead was no longer mere stone.
Each step Zhu Yan took resonated with the essence of transformation. The cave walls pulsed faintly, as though sensing the change in him — not the warmth of life, but the heat of something forged in unholy crucibles. Even the shadows recoiled.
The deeper he went, the less the mountain resembled stone. The walls grew smooth, metallic, inscribed with ancient glyphs long abandoned by both sects and spirits. This was no mere cavern.
It was a vault.
A prison.
A tomb.
And perhaps… a gate.
As he descended, the silence turned into pressure — not against his skin, but against his soul. A weightless gravity, pulling not the body, but the truth from within.
> "The Third Gate," Zhu Yan whispered, "does not hide behind flame or void."
He stepped into the final chamber.
No torches. No light. Just a floating monolith — obsidian black, suspended mid-air, with no strings, no force. It breathed like a beast, alive in a way that matter should not be.
On its surface, lines of blood-red fire traced ancient patterns — and at its base: an inscription.
「Third Gate: Demonheart Vault」
Unlike the First Gate's fury or the Second Gate's shattering, the Vault felt... silent.
Too silent.
Zhu Yan approached.
Suddenly — nothing happened.
No burst of Qi. No echoing voice. No storm of memories.
He stood before the monolith.
Waiting.
Daring.
Enduring.
Then — the monolith opened.
Not physically, but inwardly — like a mind unfolding. And from within it, a heartbeat resounded. Loud. Unmistakable. Matching his own.
> thud-thud
thud-thud
thud-thud
Zhu Yan's hands trembled.
Because what he saw… was himself.
Not a memory. Not a fragment. A reflection, standing inside the Vault, staring back with eyes equally wrathful and clear. But something was wrong.
It smiled.
> "You want power," it said. "You want justice."
> "I want truth," Zhu Yan replied.
The reflection stepped forward.
> "Then come and take it."
They clashed.
Fist against fist. Flame against flame. But it was no mere battle of strength — it was will versus will. For every strike Zhu Yan made, his reflection struck back with equal force, echoing his intent, mirroring his technique.
Every thought Zhu Yan wielded — it already knew.
He was fighting not a foe.
He was fighting the last barrier: the version of himself that had accepted defeat.
The one who had cried at Lian's grave.
The one who had begged for mercy in exile.
The one who had hesitated before embracing the fire.
> "You can't kill me," the reflection sneered.
> "You're right," Zhu Yan said, breathing hard.
"But I can leave you behind."
He stepped into the fire.
The Vault ignited.
Not in flames — but in bloodlight.
Pain surged. Not from wounds, but from clarity. The Vault did not demand sacrifice — it demanded abandonment. Of all chains. Of all excuses. Of every version of Zhu Yan who had ever hesitated.
The reflection screamed — not in defeat, but in transformation.
It shattered.
And Zhu Yan remained.
But now… his heartbeat was not alone.
Another rhythm pulsed inside his chest — darker, heavier, in sync with something beneath the earth, beneath reality itself.
> 「Third Gate: Demonheart Vault – COMPLETE」
Inner Core Reforged. Ego-Alter Integrated. Lineage Seed Activated.
He fell to his knees, but not in pain.
In revelation.
His blood glowed faintly. His bones hummed with low resonance. And from the ashes of the Vault, a symbol etched itself onto his chest — a crown split in three, framed by fire and void.
He had passed the Gates.
He had faced flame, void, and self.
But now… he was being watched.
From above the Vault, dozens of red eyes opened in the ceiling. No creatures. No spirits. Just awareness.
> "Another heir awakens," a voice echoed.
> "He walks the Heaven-Slaying Path. Let the Outer Temples be warned."
> "He carries the Mark of the Third Crown."
And far above, in temples carved into clouds, robed figures stirred. Scrolls snapped open. Bells rang without wind. Weapons awoke.
Because the path Zhu Yan walked was not merely one of power…
It was prophecy.