The masked figure circled them slowly, deliberately, each step measured, as though savoring the tension in the air. His eyes flicked between the old master and Huo feng, seeking to provoke, to awaken the slumbering power within them. The energy radiating from both was eerily alike, synchronized, as if their fates were intertwined. A flicker of unease passed through him—how could such raw strength reside in a girl not yet a thousand years old? It was both fascinating and terrifying, reminding him of past encounters that had nearly undone him.
His mind raced with strategies. Should he confront her directly, risking both their lives in a clash of force? Or should he feign gentleness, weaving a trap with honeyed words, coaxing her compliance? But before he could decide, the old master's voice cut through the tension, low and steady, carrying centuries of authority:
"Isn't it enough that you have taken lives—mine, Jin Hai's—in pursuit of a desire that does not belong to you?"
The masked figure's eyes glinted as they flicked toward Huo feng. "And why should you assume it does not belong to me? Tell me… do you truly believe I killed Jin Hai, your friend that night?"
The old master's brows knit with disbelief. "Did you?"
The masked man's voice held a cold honesty, edged with the weight of past sins. "I did not release the arrow, but I drew it from his heart. Perhaps I was not the cause of his death, yet I killed him… No, not killed—spared him from a suffering that would have claimed him sooner or later."
The words hit Huo feng like a thunderclap. The scent of blood, sharp and metallic, filled her senses—the same scent that had haunted her during her imprisonment in the Furnace. Her eyes ignited with fury. Teeth bared, she became a predator cornered by the memories of a father lost too soon. The realization struck her: the one who had extinguished her father's life stood before her.
In a heartbeat, her hand flared with energy, and from her palm surged the Lightning Sword—a blade forged from the very essence of her protection and wrath. With a roar that rose from the depths of her soul, she lunged at the masked figure, her strike fueled by grief, vengeance, and the memory of stolen warmth.
He sidestepped, almost graceful, evading her fury, but his hands moved to seize the old master, threatening her:
"If you do not yield, he too shall taste the release of your torment."
Huo feng's eyes narrowed, and with a fluid motion, she hid the sword, but her approach was deliberate, every step measured, her head bowed, yet her gaze unwavering, focused on the ground beneath her. In her mind, her father's face floated before her—his laughter, the warmth of his embrace, all stolen by this criminal.
A vow crystallized within her heart: she would not allow him to escape again. She advanced until she had melded into the masked figure's essence, entering the depths of his soul. The realization struck him like an icy blade: a single wrong move could cost him more than his body—it could unravel his very spirit.
His hands trembled despite his efforts to remain steady. A cold sweat ran beneath his mask, and fear—long foreign to him—crept insidiously into his veins. For the first time in millennia, uncertainty gnawed at his confidence. Could she truly surpass him? Or was it the waning of his own power?
Calmly, without hesitation, Huo feng tore away the most treasured cloak from his back, extracting the largest of his magical wings—the same she had plucked from him centuries ago in the Furnace. Her movements were precise, calculated, and yet carried a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. Once done, she stepped back, her gaze lowered, but the intensity of her presence remained palpable, like a storm contained within a fragile form.
Her eyes met his with a piercing clarity. "Do not be surprised. I have spent countless years seeking this moment. I am the forbidden spell… the avenging spirit. Your enchantment claimed me in the Furnace, and I became part of my own soul. You will not succeed in your desire, even if you kill me. Leave now. You have received your just reward. Depart, and do not defy me. Otherwise…"
The masked man's mind reeled. Her words struck deeper than any blade, tearing at the core of his being. Helpless, he felt a silent scream rise from his chest, yet no sound emerged. His strength faltered, and his only recourse was flight. He ascended into the skies like a wounded shadow, disbelief and fear clinging to him as frost began creeping across the mountain's peak. The icy fingers spread rapidly, freezing everything in their path, a silent testament to the power she wielded and the reckoning long overdue.
And Huo feng, standing firm, felt a serene satisfaction that was both fragile and eternal. In that frozen moment, her grief, her rage, and her determination converged into a force that no mortal or magical entity could ignore. Beneath the golden light of the setting sun, the peak of the sacred mountain shimmered with an almost divine energy, bearing witness to the triumph of a spirit long suppressed yet never broken.