The smell of smoke still lingered in the air when dawn arrived.
Rain had washed away the ashes of the night before, yet the town remained quiet, wary—every gaze that followed Chutian carried both awe and fear. He was no longer the dying boy they knew. He was something else now.
Su Lingzhi watched him from the doorway, her voice trembling.
"Ah‑Tian… people are saying you burned the Blood Serpent cultists to dust."
He didn't deny it. "They came to kill us. The world answered in flames."
Before she could respond, a shadow passed across the courtyard. The ground rippled as a massive spirit crane descended, scattering the thin morning mist. On its back stood a man in flowing white robes, the cloud‑embroidered insignia gleaming faintly under the light.
"By order of Cloud Cang Sect," the man announced, "we seek the bearer of the Pure Yang Constitution."
Chutian met his gaze. "You've found him."
The elder studied him from head to toe. "A mortal no longer… but not yet cultivator. And you burned six Blood Serpent disciples bare‑handed?"
He clicked his tongue softly. "Heaven rarely grants such extremity without purpose."
His tone left no room for retreat.
"The Sect calls all gifted ones to the mountain in seven days. There, you will be tested. Refuse, and we shall come again—less kindly."
He turned to leave, the crane spreading its wings.
"But hear this," the elder's voice drifted back through the cloud. "Control your fire, boy… or it will consume more than your enemies."
With a single beat of wings, the crane disappeared into the sky.
The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush breath.
Su Lingzhi finally whispered, "They're taking you away…"
He shook his head. "No. They're giving me a direction."
Her eyes brimmed with worry. "You don't belong among them. To those people, you won't be a student—you'll be an experiment."
Chutian looked out over the rooftops still damp with rain. "Maybe. But staying here, waiting for this fire to eat me alive—that's the real experiment."
For the next few days, he trained alone behind the clinic, learning the pulse of his own flames—their hunger, their rhythm. Sometimes the light escaped his control and turned the stones under his feet to molten glass. By the fifth night, he had learned to bind it—barely.
On the morning of the seventh day, the crane returned.
Su Lingzhi stood beside him, clutching a small satchel of herbs. "For the burns," she said quietly, forcing a smile.
He took it gently. "You saved me once. Maybe this time I'll learn to save myself."
"Promise you'll come back," she whispered.
He looked up at the waiting sky, gold light flickering behind his eyes.
"I don't make promises I can't keep. But I'll try."
He stepped onto the spirit crane's back. The wind lifted them both—one into the air, one into memory.
As the bird soared through rolling clouds, Liuwu Town vanished beneath him, nothing but smoke, rain, and the scent of ash.
Ahead lay Cloud Cang Mountain—
and the first gate on the road to the heavens.