The sun beat down like molten iron upon the endless golden sands. The wind howled with a dry rasp, lifting fine grains into shimmering mirages that danced on the horizon. The desert stretched in all directions, an unforgiving sea of heat and dust.
Jinhyuk stood at the head of the caravan, his cloak wrapped tightly around him. His face was shaded, but his eyes—sharp and steady—scanned the land ahead. Behind him, the others moved in silence. Seoryun drove the lead wagon, reins steady as the horses plodded forward. Baek Sohyun walked beside the caravan, sword resting against her shoulder, watching the dunes like a hunting hawk. Yeonhwa, her ever-curious gaze scribbling across her journal, muttered observations about shifting dunes, ancient symbols, and the strange fluctuations in qi that pulsed faintly through the air.
"Jinhyuk," she called out, "the sand here… it's not natural. There's residue of something—heat, almost like… dragonfire."
He turned, nodding slightly. "The Phoenix sleeps somewhere beneath us. The desert is its graveyard—and its cage."
They had been traveling for four days now, cutting through the Ravine of Echoes, skirting past long-dead oases and shattered stone pillars swallowed by time. Few dared enter this stretch of the Searing Flats. The sun here didn't just burn skin—it scorched spirit.
Their destination lay deep within this cursed expanse: the Scarlet Dominion's temple, the last known resting place of the Celestial Phoenix Fragment.
But the deeper they ventured, the stranger the land became.
At night, they heard whispers—songs in a language older than man. The flames of their campfires flickered green and blue. Tracks of beasts long extinct appeared beside their wagons in the morning, and Baek had nearly drawn her blade when a translucent figure emerged from the dunes one night only to vanish in the blink of an eye.
They weren't alone in this desert.
On the morning of the fifth day, as the heat reached its cruelest peak, a pillar of smoke appeared in the distance.
"A fire?" Seoryun asked, squinting.
"No," Jinhyuk said, eyes narrowing. "A signal."
They pushed toward it, wary but curious. What they found was not a fire—but ruins. Towering obsidian stones poked from the sand like broken teeth. Ancient glyphs covered them, scorched into the black rock.
Yeonhwa gasped. "These are… pre-Calamity markings. This must be one of the outer stations of the Scarlet Dominion."
The air grew thick with pressure as they crossed into the ruins. Qi warped unnaturally, as though the sands themselves breathed.
Jinhyuk approached the center of the ruins where a lone brazier stood unlit. Carved into its rim were the words:
"When the false sun bows to truth, the seal shall awaken."
"False sun…" Baek muttered. "A metaphor?"
"No," Jinhyuk said, stepping back. "A test."
He turned to Yeonhwa. "You said the sand has dragonfire residue, right?"
She nodded.
"Then it's not just a metaphor. It's literal. We need fire hotter than the sun to light this brazier."
He reached into his pouch and retrieved a small flask filled with translucent crimson liquid—the extracted essence from the Crimson Bell Monastery's ritual chamber. The last remnants of soulfire.
Jinhyuk poured it into the brazier and then extended his hand.
Qi gathered in his palm—dense, controlled. He shaped it with precision, compressing heat into an impossibly tight core. Sparks danced as he released it.
A pulse of flame erupted into the brazier—and instantly, the glyphs on the stones around them ignited, glowing with golden-orange light.
The ground rumbled.
The dunes shifted violently, and then with a roar, a sinkhole opened beneath their feet.
"Hold on!" Jinhyuk shouted, grabbing Yeonhwa as the sand gave way.
They plunged into darkness.
The fall wasn't long—but it was violent. Dust exploded around them as they hit stone. The group coughed and scrambled to their feet.
They had landed inside a massive underground chamber.
High above, the light from the surface bled through cracks in the ceiling, casting the space in a twilight hue.
All around them stood statues—hooded figures, kneeling in eternal reverence. At the far end of the chamber was a massive gate sealed by three circular locks, each one bearing a different sigil: Flame, Feather, and Eye.
Seoryun whistled. "This place just screams 'bad decision.'"
"No," Yeonhwa whispered, awe in her voice. "This is the Path of Rebirth. The ancient monks of the Scarlet Dominion believed only those who could endure death and return were worthy of holding the Phoenix's power."
Baek frowned. "And how do we open the gate?"
Jinhyuk stepped toward it, placing his hand on the first sigil—Flame.
A surge of heat enveloped the room, and he staggered back.
Suddenly, the gate began to glow—and three paths extended from it in different directions, leading into the darkness beyond.
The trial had begun.
Jinhyuk turned to the others. "We split up. Each trial must be faced alone."
Baek nodded. "Of course it does."
Seoryun grinned. "If I die, bury me with a flask of plum wine."
Yeonhwa adjusted her satchel. "If I die, it's your fault."
Jinhyuk gave her a look. "Noted."
They each took a path, and Jinhyuk's own led into a tunnel lined with obsidian feathers. As he walked deeper, flames flickered on the walls—images of birds, of burning cities, of cycles of death and resurrection.
At the end of the tunnel stood a single stone platform surrounded by fire.
A voice echoed in his mind.
"To wield the Phoenix, you must burn. To rise, you must fall."
He stepped into the flame.
The pain was immediate, searing through flesh and soul alike. Memories surged—of battles lost, of loved ones gone, of the weight he bore as the reincarnated warrior who remembered too much.
But he did not scream.
He endured.
Because he had no choice but to rise again.
The flames swallowed Jinhyuk whole. It wasn't merely the body they scorched—it was the spirit, the memories, the soul. Inside the inferno, time twisted strangely. Seconds stretched into eternities. Pain had no beginning or end.
But Jinhyuk didn't cry out.
His teeth clenched. Sweat evaporated the moment it formed. Yet his mind—sharpened through countless lives and tempered through rebirth—remained clear.
He wasn't a stranger to agony.
He had walked through Hell's gates in his previous life. He had faced executioners, betrayals, and gods. This was just another furnace.
And like iron, he would emerge reforged.
Suddenly, the flame coalesced around him. It twisted upward, forming a great spiraling pyre. From within it, a figure emerged.
It was him—Jinhyuk—but wreathed in fire, his eyes molten gold, his aura chaotic and wild.
"You are the flame," the echo said. "But can you contain it?"
The two clashed.
Jinhyuk met his own mirrored self in combat, each blow echoing through the flaming chamber. Their swords moved with identical speed. Their strikes shattered flame into sparks. Every parry, every dodge, every counter was a reflection.
But Jinhyuk realized something.
The version of himself before him—this Phoenix-born incarnation—was pure power, unshackled and raw. But it lacked control. It raged like wildfire, directionless.
He, however, had forged his path through discipline, through choice, not fury.
As the clone lunged forward, Jinhyuk pivoted and sheathed his blade. He stepped aside. The flaming double struck nothing but air.
Jinhyuk turned toward it and calmly extended his palm.
His qi surged—not violently, but with purpose. He pulled from his inner flame, but shaped it. Molded it.
"You burn because you are lost," Jinhyuk said softly. "I blaze because I choose to."
A stream of golden fire burst from his hand—not destructive, but illuminating. It wrapped around the clone and gently consumed it, not with rage… but with clarity.
The mirrored figure screamed silently and shattered into embers.
The flame around Jinhyuk vanished.
The chamber dimmed.
Before him now stood a single feather, glowing gold and crimson, suspended in the air. As he reached toward it, the feather sank into his palm and merged into his skin, searing a new mark across the back of his hand: the sigil of flame.
The first trial was complete.
---
Elsewhere in the ruins, Baek Sohyun's path led into a corridor filled with whispering shadows.
The walls pulsed with dark light, showing visions of her past: the faces of those she had slain, the innocent and guilty alike. Her path was one of atonement. Each step dragged memories back into her mind, each heavier than the last.
At the end of her corridor stood a towering mirror.
When she looked into it, she didn't see herself—but the face of the first man she had ever killed. He stepped out from the mirror, silent, blade drawn.
"No hesitation," she whispered, drawing her own weapon.
But the trial wasn't about killing—it was about acknowledgment. When the battle ended, she didn't deliver a final blow. She knelt and placed her sword down. "I remember you. I carry you. I won't forget."
The mirror shattered. A silver eye lit up on her palm.
The second sigil was claimed.
---
In the third corridor, Yeonhwa struggled through a labyrinth of illusions.
Each room twisted reality: the sand became ocean, the wind turned to music, her thoughts echoed back at her in mocking tones.
The trial of perception.
She had to discern truth from illusion, knowledge from assumption.
Books floated in the air—ancient scripts and languages not seen for millennia. Riddles wrapped themselves into poetry, demanding solutions not through logic, but wisdom.
At the heart of the labyrinth, she stood before a sealed door with no handle. Carved into it:
"The answer lies not in mind, but in memory."
She paused… and remembered a lullaby her mother had sung when she was a child.
Softly, she sang.
The door creaked open.
On the pedestal beyond it was the last sigil—an obsidian feather marked with a single glowing eye. It rose and etched its symbol into her hand.
All three trials had been overcome.
---
Back in the main chamber, the massive gate pulsed. One by one, the sigils embedded themselves into the locks.
With a thunderous groan, the doors creaked open.
Inside was not a treasure room, nor a tomb—but a shrine.
A great phoenix statue loomed overhead, carved from crystal and flame. Beneath it lay a pedestal—and upon it, a single fragment of glowing red stone.
The Celestial Phoenix Fragment.
Jinhyuk stepped forward, every sense alert. "No traps?"
Yeonhwa checked her readings. "None… but the qi is wild. Whatever's in that fragment… it's alive."
Baek frowned. "Then let's not keep it waiting."
As Jinhyuk reached out, the fragment pulsed. A wave of heat blew through the chamber, and the statue's eyes lit up.
The shrine began to shake.
The Phoenix was waking.
And the true trial had only just begun.
The moment Jinhyuk's fingers brushed the Celestial Phoenix Fragment, the air warped.
A deafening screech echoed through the chamber, as though a god had cried out from within the stone itself. Blazing torrents of flame erupted from the pedestal, spiraling upward, consuming the entire shrine in a column of crimson fire.
Baek Sohyun instinctively drew her blade, stepping between Yeonhwa and the fire. But the flames didn't spread—they spiraled inwards, gathering toward the statue.
The colossal phoenix sculpture above them cracked.
Its crystalline feathers shattered, falling like glass rain, and from within the fractured shell emerged a spectral phoenix, its wings aglow with ancient, golden light. Its eyes blazed like twin suns, and its aura bore the pressure of ten thousand years.
It wasn't just a guardian.
It was a sentient remnant of the divine beast itself.
"Who dares claim the heart of rebirth?" the phoenix's voice rang out, not in sound, but within their minds.
Jinhyuk stepped forward calmly. "I am Jinhyuk of the Southern Continent. Reborn from ashes, forged by war, guided by purpose. I seek not power for conquest, but for protection."
The phoenix lowered its head, studying him. "Rebirth... you know of it."
Jinhyuk nodded. "More than most."
It circled him slowly, its talons never touching the ground. "Then answer this, flamebearer. Rebirth is a blessing—but also a curse. What will you sacrifice to carry its burden?"
He didn't hesitate. "My ignorance. My complacency. My fear."
The phoenix paused. "And your soul?"
Jinhyuk's gaze never wavered. "My soul is already committed. I carry lifetimes within it."
A beat of silence followed.
Then, the phoenix spread its wings, releasing a wave of fire that scorched the stone floor and turned the shadows into light. The shrine rumbled beneath their feet. Yeonhwa and Baek staggered back, shielding their eyes.
The phoenix's form surged forward—straight into Jinhyuk.
For a moment, his body convulsed. The fire entered his veins like molten gold. His heart beat once—twice—and then exploded into light.
When the glow faded, Jinhyuk stood tall, steam rising from his skin.
A fiery sigil blazed on his chest—the complete emblem of the Phoenix. His qi no longer flowed—it roared.
He had absorbed the Celestial Phoenix Fragment.
---
Outside, the desert wind shifted.
The skies turned crimson as a wave of energy burst from beneath the dunes. Miles away, wandering sects and hidden clans felt it ripple through the world. A new force had awakened.
In hidden temples, old masters opened their eyes.
In forbidden realms, sleeping beasts stirred.
The balance of power was shifting again—and Jinhyuk was now at its center.
---
As the shrine quieted, Yeonhwa stepped beside him, placing a hand on his arm. "How do you feel?"
Jinhyuk's eyes still burned faintly, flickering like candlelight. "Like I've only just begun."
Baek Sohyun gave him a look. "That wasn't an easy trial. You passed it… too well."
He looked at her, amused. "Jealous?"
She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. You almost exploded."
Their laughter eased the tension, but they all knew what this meant.
This wasn't just another relic.
This was a beacon.
One that would draw the attention of ancient forces—sect leaders, demonic cults, and forgotten clans alike.
Jinhyuk turned back toward the shrine.
There were no more gates to open, but something shimmered faintly behind the phoenix's pedestal—a sealed alcove.
Inside it, three scrolls lay wrapped in dragonhide. Yeonhwa picked them up with trembling fingers.
"These are… cultivation arts," she whispered. "From before the Warring Eras."
She handed one to Jinhyuk. It was bound with phoenix feathers and sealed with an ancient sigil.
"Heavenly Rebirth Flame Scripture"
Jinhyuk raised an eyebrow. "This… was what the phoenix was truly guarding."
Baek glanced at the others. "So… what's next?"
Jinhyuk looked out at the horizon through a crack in the shrine's ceiling. The sun was rising, casting golden light over the endless dunes.
"There's no going back," he said. "Not after this. The Phoenix Flame will draw eyes we're not ready for."
Yeonhwa nodded. "Then we prepare."
Baek Sohyun's lips curved slightly. "Let them come."
The three left the shrine in silence, the wind at their backs. Behind them, the ruins of the Celestial Phoenix Shrine crumbled into dust.
But beneath the sands, the flames still burned.
And far away, in the darkened corners of the Murim world, new players began to stir.
The next chapter of their saga was about to begin.