The forest had never felt so heavy.
Each step Shen Yun took felt like dragging chains behind him. His body was bruised, scraped, covered in ash. Every time he blinked, the fire returned. The screams. His sect burning. His master's blood on the floor.
The glowing mark on his wrist pulsed, hidden under torn fabric. It was hot. Angry. Alive.
And someone was following him.
Shen Yun didn't look back. If they wanted to kill him, they would've done it already.
But just as he reached the edge of a slope—
Clang!
A sword flew from the shadows.
He barely raised his blade in time. Sparks flew as metal clashed. Shen Yun stumbled, barely steady, pain flaring through his arms. The assassin didn't speak, didn't hesitate — a silent shadow with poisoned intent.
Another slash — and this time Shen Yun slipped.
The blade was coming for his chest—
SHHHK.
Suddenly, a flash of red tore through the trees.
A single strike — clean, precise.
The assassin dropped. Dead before he hit the ground.
Shen Yun fell to his knees, coughing, gasping for air. The forest was still again… except for the soft crunch of boots on leaves.
He looked up.
The man who stood before him was dressed in flowing crimson robes. His black hair was tied high with a silver clasp. Sharp jaw. Pale skin. A red mark — small, elegant — sat in the center of his brows, glowing faintly. His eyes sharp.
Li Feng.
Leader of the Nine Gates Sect.
A name whispered with both fear and awe.
But Shen Yun didn't recognize him. Not yet.
Li Feng looked down at him, expression unreadable.
"You're sloppy with the sword," he said casually.
Shen Yun narrowed his eyes. "...Thanks for the help, I guess."
Li Feng raised a brow. "You're bleeding."
Shen Yun scoffed. "Doesn't matter."
Li Feng stepped forward and offered his hand.
A gloved palm. Steady. Unshaking.
"Come on. You'll die out here."
Shen Yun hesitated. Every instinct screamed not to trust him. But his body was too weak to fight, and something about this man—cold as he looked—didn't feel like a killer.
He took the hand.
A Quiet Cabin in the Mountains
The cabin was simple. Old. Hidden in the woods. Shen Yun sat on a futon beside a small fire. His cloak was gone. His wrist, wrapped in clean bandages.
Li Feng poured tea with graceful, practiced hands.
Shen Yun still hadn't spoken. He kept glancing at the man in red across from him.
Finally: "Why are you helping me?"
Li Feng didn't look up. "I didn't say I was."
"…Then what is this?"
"A transaction," Li Feng said simply. "I have an old martial house nearby. You're clearly not strong enough to survive on your own. If you want to stay, clean it. Cook. Do the laundry. Don't cause trouble."
Shen Yun blinked. "...What?"
"Stay quiet, follow the rules, and I'll let you heal."
Shen Yun scoffed. "You make it sound like a prison."
Li Feng's lips twitched. "Then leave."
Shen Yun looked down at his tea, frustration bubbling in his chest.
He didn't know this man. But he had saved him. Offered shelter. Food.
And he had no other place to go.
"…Fine," Shen Yun said at last. "I'll stay."
Li Feng stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.
"Good. There are cleaning supplies in the storage room."
"Right now?!"
Li Feng didn't answer.
He left with his robes flowing behind him like fire.
Late that Night
Shen Yun cleaned the wooden floors of the martial house, grumbling under his breath. His wrist throbbed beneath the bandages.
When he sat to rest, he let the cloth fall just a little.
The mark glowed faintly — red and gold, shaped like a phoenix mid-flight.
Shen Yun stared at it.
"...Why me?" he whispered. "I never wanted this."
He remembered his master's voice. The words about the Vessel. About being hunted. About destruction.
His eyes burned with unshed tears.
He clenched his fist and covered the mark again.
Meanwhile… in a Hidden Room
Li Feng stood before an old scroll.
Ancient markings glowed across the surface. A diagram of the phoenix mark. Notes about the Vessel of Flame.
He traced it with a finger.
"So it's real after all."
His mind replayed everything: the mark he had glimpsed on Shen Yun's wrist, the boy's confused expression, the way he had flinched when asked questions.
He doesn't know.
He doesn't even know what he carries.
Li Feng's eyes darkened.
"I'll earn your trust," he murmured. "Let you think you're safe. And when the time is right…"
He rolled up the scroll, turning toward the flickering candlelight.
"…I'll take it all."
The Next Morning
Shen Yun woke early, sore but breathing easier.
He stepped out into the sunlight and saw the training courtyard.
It was quiet. Peaceful.
For the first time in days, he didn't feel hunted.
He didn't know this place. Didn't know the man who saved him. But something inside him — maybe desperation, maybe hope — wanted to believe it would be okay.
"I'll stay a little longer," he whispered. "Just until I can stand on my own again."
Unseen by him, Li Feng stood on the balcony above in his own main palace watching the disciple courtyard where Shen Yun small martial house was. The view was clear. He can easily watch every move of Shen Yun..even if he just breathes.
His expression unreadable.
❝
A boy with fire in his veins.
A man with flames in his heart.
Two paths destined to cross — and burn everything in between.