The storm rolled in by noon.
Dark clouds clawed across the valley sky, and thunder growled like a beast in chains.
Jiang Han stood beneath the arch of the repaired Flame Shrine gate, Ember Fang sheathed across his back, his ribs still tender from the battle with the Void assassin.
Beside him, Lin Yao tended to new spirit plants she had coaxed to grow in the cracked stone beds—roots coiling slowly through sacred ground. Her awakening to wood-elemental talent had not only saved lives—it now nurtured the land.
Yue perched on a broken pillar nearby, sharpening an arrowhead with a knife. "Storm's angry."
Bo Ren poured hot bark tea into clay cups. "So are the heavens. You lit an old fire. Now the skies test if it burns true."
Jiang Han didn't speak.
Instead, he focused on the horizon.
Because in the distance… he saw light.
Not sunlight.
Lightning.
---
The figure came with the rain—barefoot, shirtless, his body half-covered in burn scars that pulsed faintly with spiritual energy. A crude spear made of bone and copper slung across his back.
He walked into the valley without fear.
And he grinned.
Even drenched, he seemed charged. Not just soaked—but conducting.
Jiang Han stepped forward.
"Name?"
"Zhao Kai," the man said. "Seventeen. Lightning-aligned. I heard there was a boy with flame in his blood who killed a Collector and survived a Void assassin."
Yue leaned toward Lin Yao. "Word's spreading fast."
Jiang Han studied him. "And?"
Zhao Kai stabbed his spear into the ground. Lightning cracked from his palm to the tip. "I want in."
"In what?"
"Whatever you're building."
Jiang Han's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
Zhao shrugged. "The sects hoard knowledge. The rich buy power. You lit a free flame. That means you're dangerous. And I like dangerous."
Bo Ren sipped his tea. "He's got spirit. And he's not wrong."
Jiang Han looked Zhao over.
Then drew Ember Fang.
Zhao's eyes lit up. "Oh? Already?"
"You want in, earn it."
---
The Duel
Rain poured in sheets as the two youths squared off in the mud.
Zhao Kai spun his spear once, energy crackling along the shaft. "Don't hold back. I won't."
Jiang Han dropped into stance, flame thread coiling down his arm.
"Good."
Zhao moved first—fast. Faster than Jiang expected. The lightning affinity enhanced his footwork, turning his dashes into blurs.
His first strike came low—sweeping the spear to trip Jiang in the mud. Jiang flipped backward, countering with Ember Whiplash, flame bursting toward Zhao's ribs.
Zhao blocked with a crack of electricity—fire and lightning exploding on impact.
They danced through rain and fire, sparks scattering between them like stars falling to earth.
Zhao struck again—this time a downward arc backed by a bolt-surge.
Jiang caught it with Ember Fang and twisted, dragging flame along the spearhead and launching a close-range Fang Echo.
The afterimage hit Zhao in the shoulder, spinning him into a slide.
But he laughed as he stood.
"Beautiful. That blade sings!"
"You're smiling too much," Jiang said.
"I'm just happy to finally bleed for something real."
Their final clash shook the clearing.
In the end, Zhao's spear snapped—but he never stopped laughing.
Jiang Han helped him up.
"You pass."
Zhao nodded, drenched, breathless.
"Then I'm yours."
---
That night, under the repaired roof of the Flame Shrine, Jiang Han sat at the center of the fire circle.
Across from him sat four figures:
Lin Yao, his healer and soul-steadier.
Yue, his shadow-eyed scout and guardian.
Bo Ren, wanderer, teacher, and knower of old things.
Zhao Kai, the storm-blooded wild card.
Jiang Han took a breath.
"This shrine was dead. Now it breathes again. We've survived beasts, shadows, sect envoys, and Void blades."
He looked each of them in the eye.
"But surviving isn't enough anymore."
They listened.
"I'm not building a sect. Not yet. But I'm building a force. A forge. One that doesn't bow to fear, wealth, or bloodlines."
He lifted Ember Fang.
"This is just the first weapon. More will follow. We'll train. Grow. Protect each other. And when the Immortal Realm finally looks down?"
His flame ignited, small but unflinching.
"We'll burn back."
Silence.
Then:
Zhao Kai raised a cracked tea cup. "To the forge."
Yue clinked hers. "To the fire."
Lin Yao smiled. "To all of us."
Bo Ren closed his eyes.
And the storm passed overhead without thunder.