Chapter 14: Silent Steps on the Path of Flame
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting gold and amber rays across the Jadepeak Sect. But beneath the splendor, tension brewed.
Today marked the opening of the Path of Flame—an ancient cultivation trial said to temper the soul and reveal a disciple's true essence. Few dared walk it. Even fewer passed.
And yet, Luo Qingshen stepped forward with the calm of a man going for a stroll.
He stood at the base of the sacred cliff, facing the arched gateway carved from obsidian and fireglass. Beyond it, the Path awaited—a trial of illusions, elemental torment, and spirit flame. The watching elders murmured quietly among themselves.
"Even senior core disciples wouldn't attempt this lightly."
"He's only been in the sect a few months."
"Then watch closely."
High above, the masked elder known only as Master Feng narrowed his eyes. The flames of the Path reflected in his silver mask. "Let's see what you are, Luo Qingshen."
The moment Qingshen crossed the threshold, heat surged like a tidal wave. Molten rivers carved glowing veins through obsidian rock. Scorching winds howled like spirits of the damned. Each step forward was meant to blister the flesh, unravel the mind.
But his robes didn't stir.
His breath remained steady.
Around him, flame dragons roared from the lava below, trying to coil around his soul. Phantasms appeared—ghosts from his past, illusions of doubt, figures of betrayal.
He didn't flinch.
He kept walking.
With every step, the Path tried harder. Lightning storms erupted in flame-colored clouds. Illusory blades sang down from the air. The stone beneath him shattered into spikes.
But none of it touched him.
Instead, Qingshen simply raised one hand. A ripple moved through the air—invisible to most, but not to the girl watching from the audience.
The silver-haired girl tilted her head. That movement... that power... it wasn't cultivation. It was control. Of something deeper.
The elders above were stunned. Some leaned forward, eyes wide.
"He's suppressing the flame spirits?"
"No... it's like they fear him."
"I've never seen the Path grow quiet like that."
Indeed, it was silent now. As if the trial itself recognized something ancient.
Master Feng's knuckles tightened on the railing.
When Qingshen emerged from the exit of the Path, not a speck of ash touched his clothes. The final trial—a cleansing fire meant to burn away falsehood—rose before him.
He walked through it like mist.
Gasps filled the courtyard. Even the outer disciples bowed their heads.
The trial guardian stepped forward. "Candidate Luo Qingshen. The Path of Flame... yields."
Only once before had those words been spoken in the sect's history.
Later that evening, while the sect buzzed in whispers, the silver-haired girl stood by a waterfall overlooking the valley.
She thought of the way the flames retreated from him.
She thought of the invisible force that shimmered when he raised his hand.
And of the strange stillness in her own soul when their eyes met.
Who are you, Luo Qingshen?
In the shadows behind her, a pair of eyes watched through a crimson crystal lens. The masked stranger from the north had arrived early.
And he too had begun to suspect the truth.