Lightning cracked through the skies above the Blood-Echo Basin, though no storm clouds stirred. The clash of steel-on-steel echoed endlessly in Yue Lian's ears. Dust still spiraled in the air from the duel, settling like memories refusing to fade. She stood opposite Shen Wu, the last of Yan Zhuo's sworn brothers—scarred, proud, and mourning.
Her blade quivered in her hand. It wasn't even her weapon, not truly—it had formed from the twisted qi inside her, the essence of Yan Zhuo's sealed legacy. Her breathing came ragged, shallow.
"You fight like him," Shen Wu said, voice low. "Not the tyrant in their stories. The brother I knew, before the sky turned red."
Lin Xue's fingers relaxed slightly on the blade's hilt. "Then why strike me down?"
"Because you carry the seed of ruin. Not by choice, but still—it's in you. The Judges won't hesitate."
He sheathed his sword slowly. His robes, once white, were stained with dust and old regret. "Conviction must follow truth. But I see now... your eyes do not yet lie."
Above them, the Basin darkened. The sky rumbled without clouds. The Silver Judges had not yet descended, but their coming was inevitable. Even the wind dared not speak in their presence.
Shen Wu turned, mist curling at his feet. "I'll hold them off as long as I can. Buy time. But this—" he gestured to the mark burning on her palm, "—this cannot remain hidden."
And then he was gone.
Yue Lian sank to her knees, breath catching in her throat. Pain surged from her meridians. The scroll now etched into her spirit churned restlessly, laced with memory and rebellion.
Yan Zhuo's voice echoed in her bones.
If they must curse someone to save the world, let it be me.
She clenched her fist. "No. I won't be your echo. I'll be your answer."
Far across the continent, in the suspended skies of the Immortal Ascension Sect, nine figures sat around the Lake of Stilled Time. The water did not reflect stars or sky—it reflected intentions.
It rippled once.
"She carries the tyrant's inheritance," spoke the Judge of Bound Faiths.
"She walks the path of the forbidden flame," whispered the Judge of Severed Karma.
"She must be extinguished before the seeds bloom," declared the Judge of Iron Cause.
All nine turned their eyes skyward, and the decree was passed: "Let the Trial of Ashen Heirs begin."
Yue Lian wandered beyond the basin, mountains shadowed behind her, unknown lands ahead. With each step, her senses twisted. Her cultivation surged in strange bursts, drawing not from the world—but from what lay beneath it. From the veins of buried history.
She passed through a dying forest where the trees wept red sap. Each droplet shimmered with spirit fragments—battlefields long forgotten.
A hidden village lay ahead: Songliang, shrouded by talismans and ancient fear. They whispered of Yan Zhuo there as a ghost, a curse.
She entered.
The elders stared. Children fled. A bell rang once, hollow.
A boy with white eyes approached. "You wear his mark. Does that mean the sky will burn again?"
She knelt. "Only if we fail to remember."
A girl clutched her robes. "He saved my grandmother once. They said he burned a temple to do it."
And so the myths began to unravel—gently, painfully.
In the western sects, rumors stirred of the Tyrant's Daughter—heretic, prophet, pretender. Cultivators hunted whispers, sects raised bans, and righteous blades were sharpened.
But beneath it all, old allies began to dream again.
Feiyan saw fire spreading from a flute's mouth.
Lu Chengwei saw a mountain torn in two.
And Shen Wu stood alone at a crossroad of realms, his hand on his blade, whispering to the ghost of a brother.
"She walks your path. But not your fate. Let's see what she makes of it."
Lin Xue slept that night on stone, surrounded by silence and fear. Her dreams were not hers alone. She saw:
—A council of immortals sealing a truth in flame. —A girl wrapped in crimson chains, singing a lullaby to ash. —And a sky shattering.
When she awoke, the world felt heavier.
A trial had begun.
And she was no longer alone.