No one realized that the tears Huo Feng shed beneath the Tree of Life did not vanish into the soil. They trickled silently, weaving through the roots, sinking deeper and deeper—beyond the roots, beyond the faint shimmer of light—into a place where forgotten things breathed in silence.
There, in the churning abyss of the Shadow Realm, between the crumbling remnants of the ancient pact, an eye of darkness opened once more. The air shivered as the Shadow King stirred upon his throne of echoes, a presence felt more than seen. His voice was soft, but every word cut through the void like a scythe:
"It begins again… the Sacred Spring shall awaken."
From that whisper, unseen threads of shadow spread across the realms, gliding like smoke into the waters of Shui Guan—the purest fountain that once connected Heaven, Earth, and Shadow. No one knew that the first seed of betrayal had already been planted—by a hand hidden among the academy's own elite. A name that would linger in darkness, concealed until the destined hour.
While the disciples celebrated the blooming of Huo Feng's flowers, beneath their feet the seeds of corruption had already begun to sprout. And by dawn, the waters of the Holy Spring trembled. Tiny ripples quivered across its glassy surface, as if sensing an unseen touch, a prelude to chaos.
The academy slowly returned to its daily rhythm, yet the air carried an unspoken tension, thick as fog over frozen water. Whispers curled through marble halls, slithering around corners and through corridors. Something was wrong. The waters of Shui Guan, sacred and eternal, were dimming, their light dulled as if the heartbeat of the fountain itself faltered.
In the grand assembly hall, the tension pressed against every skin pore. Masters and disciples gathered, faces pale, eyes wide with unease, their breaths shallow and quick. The hall seemed to constrict, air heavy with anticipation.
Then Mei stepped forward. Her gaze glimmered with accusation, sharp as frost cutting through morning mist. Her voice rang out like glass breaking:
"This is no coincidence. Someone tampered with the spring… Perhaps from the Shadow Realm—or perhaps… from here."
She turned slowly toward Huo Feng, eyes glinting with calculated malice.
The girl said nothing, calm as still water, watching the storm unfold around her. But Mei pressed on, theatrically venomous:
"I saw her that night—near the spring. She touched it with her own hands."
Huo Feng tilted her head, lips curling in faux surprise.
"Touched it? How unfortunate."
Then, her voice turned colder, edged with challenge:
"Do you have proof, or are you lying again?"
The hall fell silent, brittle and dangerous, as if the very air had frozen. Mei faltered, her certainty cracking beneath Huo Feng's gaze. A faint, almost serene smile spread across Huo Feng's face:
"Yes, I touched it.But can you prove that I corrupted it?"
Mei hesitated, words slipping like sand through her fingers.
"Touching it alone is crime enough!"
From the back of the hall, Yue's palm slammed against the polished floor, sending a shiver through the room:
"So that's all you care about? Punishing her—not saving the spring?"
Mei ignored him, her eyes blazing as she turned toward the Masters.
"The spring is sacred. To touch it is forbidden. Anyone who dares must face judgment."
Huo Feng lowered her eyes, calm but burdened, knowing the truth was far more complex than they could imagine.
Master Li's voice rose, resonant and steady, like a river cutting through rock:
"The spring is the artery of all realms. Only a pure heart may approach it. Huo Feng… tell us. What truly happened that night?"
Huo Feng's voice trembled, soft yet sincere, her words a fragile melody against the rigid hall:
"I did touch it. I drew a few drops… not to harm it, but to heal someone dear to me. I have wronged him twice before—I only wished to make amends."
The hall went still. Then came whispers, mutterings, sharp intake of breath, outrage—ready to ignite.
A stern elder rose, robes rustling like dry leaves:
"No one may tamper with the Sacred Spring. What she has done cannot be forgiven."
Before judgment could descend, Huo Feng's companions stepped forward, forming a protective circle around her. Their presence radiated quiet defiance, warmth against the cold blade of accusation.
"She didn't corrupt the spring," they said. "She tried to fix what unseen hands have already broken."
Master Li remained silent, yet his presence pulsed with unspoken command. The air around him vibrated subtly with authority and trust.
Then came a voice like thunder rolling over the mountains:
"Enough."
All eyes turned to Wu Xin. His gaze was cold, sharp, commanding—a blade that cut through the tension, slicing shadows in its path.
"This is not a trial of guilt—it is a test of survival. Blame will not cleanse the spring. Unity might."
His eyes swept over the hall before resting on Huo Feng:
"The next trial shall be this: Purify the spring, return it to its light. Only the strongest among you will succeed."
Inside, his thoughts twisted like dark vines: if she failed… no one else could save it. But if she succeeded… then she could truly be the cause of its salvation.
The crowd moved to the sacred glade where Shui Guan rested. One by one, disciples cast spells, threads of light weaving across the restless water. They shimmered, glimmered, sparkled—but the spring refused them, dull and defiant, as if testing their intent, their hearts, their worth.
Then came silence. Heavy, electric, expectant. Huo Feng moved. She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the spring within her own heartbeat. Every breath she drew synchronized with the water's rhythm until a single thread of life connected them.
With a spark of resolve, she removed her crystal earring, delicate and translucent, and drew a shallow cut upon her palm. Crimson droplets fell into the pale waters. The spring inhaled. Light erupted.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, a wave of awe and disbelief.
Wu Xin stepped forward, voice controlled yet trembling beneath the surface:
"She once took a purification elixir. Her blood carries no impurity. That must be why the spring reacts."
As he spoke, the waters shimmered, their murk lifting, glow returning, as though recognizing the purity of her offering. Awe and relief swept through the hall—but suspicion lingered, sharp as a blade.
Mei's smirk cut through the reverence:
"Strange, isn't it? How would you know about her blood, Master Wu Xin? Are you hiding something too?"
"Silence!" Wu Xin roared. His voice shook the chamber, commanding obedience from even the faintest whisper of doubt.
"She healed me once—in Mount Kunlun. And again at the River of Forgetting. Her intent was never to corrupt, only to mend."
Whispers rippled into gasps. In the center, Huo Feng smiled faintly, teasing, untouched by the chaos around her:
"That's not quite right," she murmured.
Before she could continue, Wu Xin's hand covered her mouth, eyes blazing with anger and desperation. He lifted her effortlessly, removing her from the prying eyes and murmuring crowd.
Inside his chamber, he released her just enough to glare, voice tight:
"Are you foolish, or fearless? Why can't you just stay silent once in your life?"
She tilted her head, grin teasing, eyes dancing with light:
"Because the truth is far too loud to be hidden."
Silence fell, fragile as a soap bubble.
Then Wu Xin's voice softened, trembling slightly, a hint of longing hidden beneath:
"Tell me… am I truly that person you wanted to heal?"
Huo Feng's gaze lifted, playful, calm, almost mischievous:
"No."
Jealousy and pain struck him like a blade.
"Then who?" he demanded, tension coiling in the air.
Just then, the door slid open. Master Li stepped inside. Huo Feng raised a finger, smiling with innocent certainty:
"Him."
Li froze, then warmth radiated from his composed face in a smile that softened even the tension in Wu Xin's chest. Wuxin's back stiffened, his voice heavy with something he couldn't name, raw and unspoken.
Then, soft as wind through leaves, came Huo Feng's whisper:
"Don't be jealous, little storm. You're the one who matters most."
Wu Xin turned, eyes wide, heart caught between fear and hope, uncertain whether to believe her words or the truth she carried in her smile.
Far beneath the surface, unseen by any living soul, the corrupted root of the spring pulsed once. Like a heartbeat of shadow, it shivered and laughed silently.
In the sleeping void between realms, the Shadow King's voice echoed once more, brushing the edge of her soul:
"So… the child of the Sacred Furnace now carries the breath of the Tree. Two forces that should never coexist—destruction and creation. How long, I wonder… before one consumes the other?"
His hand reached into the darkness, and black petals began to fall, scattering like silent omens.
"The spring has chosen its new heir. And so have I."
Above, beneath a moon gleaming like silver glass, Huo Feng's reflection shimmered in the sacred water—half bathed in light, half in shadow. She did not yet know it, but the world had already begun to divide around her.