The first light of dawn painted the Azure Flame Continent in hues of amber and rose as Lin Xing and Sylvara emerged from the Ruins of Dawn. The forest around them was eerily quiet, the air still heavy with the lingering chill of the Shadow Wraith's presence. Lin Xing's body ached from the battle, his right arm throbbing where the Ember Gauntlet clung like a second skin. Yet the spark in his chest burned steady, a quiet reminder of the power he'd only begun to tap.
Sylvara led the way, her silver hair glinting in the morning light, her staff tapping the ground rhythmically. "The City of Blazing Skies lies three days' journey from here," she said, her voice calm but edged with purpose. "It is a hub of cultivators, merchants, and secrets. The next trial awaits there, but so do dangers. The Shadow Clans will not rest, and others may sense the Flame's awakening."
Lin Xing adjusted the sword across his back, the gauntlet's faint hum resonating with his steps. "What's this trial? Another fight?" His tone was gruff, but the spark within him stirred at the thought, eager for the challenge.
Sylvara glanced at him, her violet eyes unreadable. "The Trial of Insight. The Flame tests not only your will but your understanding. In Blazing Skies, you'll face a choice that will shape your path as its bearer."
He frowned, unsure what she meant but too stubborn to admit it. "Sounds like more cryptic nonsense. Just point me at what needs hitting."
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "Patience, Lin Xing. Strength alone won't make you Sovereign. The Flame demands more."
They trekked through the Emberwood Forest, its gnarled trees thinning as the terrain opened into rolling plains. The Azure Flame Continent stretched before them, its horizon shimmering with heat. Lin Xing had never ventured beyond Spark Village's borders, and the vastness of the world felt both exhilarating and daunting. He glanced at Sylvara, her ethereal presence a stark contrast to the mundane life he'd known. "You said you're the Keeper of the Eternal Flame. What does that mean, exactly? Are you human?"
She didn't break stride. "I am a spirit born of the Flame's essence, bound to guide its chosen. My purpose is to ensure the Flame's light endures. Beyond that, my past is irrelevant."
He raised an eyebrow. "Irrelevant? You're asking me to trust you with my life, and I don't even know what you are."
Sylvara stopped, turning to face him. "Trust is earned through action, not words. I fought beside you against the Wraith. I will fight beside you again. That is all you need to know for now."
Lin Xing held her gaze, searching for deception but finding only resolve. He nodded grudgingly. "Fine. But I'm keeping an eye on you."
She resumed walking, unfazed. "You'd be a fool not to."
By midday, they reached a dusty trade road bustling with travelers—merchants with laden carts, cultivators in flowing robes, and mercenaries with scars that told stories of their own. Lin Xing felt out of place, his worn tunic and rusted sword drawing curious glances. The gauntlet, however, seemed to go unnoticed, its runes dim under the sunlight. He kept his hand close to it, wary of the attention.
A commotion ahead drew his focus. A group of cultivators in blue robes, their belts emblazoned with a flame insignia, surrounded a stalled cart. A young girl, no older than fifteen, stood defiantly before them, her dark hair tangled and her clothes patched. She clutched a small dagger, her eyes fierce despite the odds.
"You owe the Flame Sect passage tax!" one of the cultivators barked, a burly man with a scar across his cheek. "Pay, or we'll take that cart—and your life."
The girl spat at his feet. "You're just bandits in fancy robes! This is all we have!"
Lin Xing's hand tightened on his sword. He glanced at Sylvara, who watched the scene with a neutral expression. "We helping her or what?" he muttered.
Sylvara's voice was low. "This is not our fight. Intervening will draw attention we cannot afford."
He gritted his teeth, the spark in his chest flaring with indignation. "Maybe not, but I'm not standing by while they bully her."
Before Sylvara could protest, he strode forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Hey! If you're so tough, pick on someone who can fight back."
The cultivators turned, their eyes narrowing. The scarred man sneered, sizing up Lin Xing's ragged appearance. "A peasant with a toy sword? Scramble back to your village, boy, before I break you."
Lin Xing smirked, the gauntlet warming against his skin. "Try it."
The man lunged, a fist wreathed in faint blue flames. Lin Xing sidestepped, his forest-honed instincts kicking in. The gauntlet flared, and he swung his sword, the blade igniting with a golden ember that sliced through the man's flame like paper. The cultivator stumbled back, shock etched on his face.
The others drew their weapons, but the girl seized the moment, darting forward with her dagger and slicing the cart's ropes. The horses bolted, pulling the cart free. She grinned at Lin Xing. "Not bad, stranger!"
Sylvara appeared at his side, her staff glowing faintly. "Enough," she said, her voice carrying an authority that stilled the cultivators. "Leave, or face the consequences."
The scarred man spat but signaled his group to retreat, their glares promising retribution. The girl, panting, turned to Lin Xing. "I'm Ryn. Thanks for the save. You're not from around here, are you?"
"Lin Xing," he said, sheathing his sword. "And no, I'm not. You okay?"
Ryn nodded, her eyes sharp with curiosity. "Better now. You headed to Blazing Skies? I could use a travel buddy who swings a sword like that."
Sylvara's gaze was cold. "We travel alone."
Lin Xing shot her a look. "She's just a kid. She's coming with us."
Ryn grinned, undeterred by Sylvara's disapproval. "Don't worry, shiny lady. I'm tougher than I look."
As they set off down the trade road, Ryn chattering about her merchant family and their stolen goods, Lin Xing felt the gauntlet's hum intensify. The spark in his chest stirred, as if sensing something in Ryn—or perhaps in the road ahead. The City of Blazing Skies loomed closer, and with it, the promise of trials and enemies far greater than a few rogue cultivators.