Chapter 5
It started with a sound—low, like thunder rolling from beneath the earth.
Shen Rui's eyes flicked open, and he shot upright with a gasp, sweat soaking his back. The cave around him pulsed with a strange light—faint gold glowing from the cracks in the stone, like veins pumping something alive.
For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was.
The battle. The fire. The Executioner.
The dragon.
He looked down at his hands. Blistered. Bandaged. But still shaking.
He wasn't dead.
But he didn't feel alive either.
"You're awake."
Yan Zhi's voice came from the shadows. She stood near the cave entrance, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"You almost didn't make it," she said.
Rui coughed and winced. "Where are we?"
"A cave. High ridge, northeast of Wutai. No one followed."
He touched his ribs—aching but whole. "The Executioner?"
"Gone. When the dragon appeared, it retreated. Like it was… afraid."
He blinked. "That wasn't possible."
Yan Zhi stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Was it?"
Rui didn't answer.
Because the truth was—he remembered everything.
Not just the dragon. But what it said before he passed out.
"You carry my pulse, little heir. But you're not the only one. And the others… will come for you."
He sat up slowly. "How long have I been out?"
"Two nights," Yan Zhi said, tossing him a canteen. "You had a seizure. Then your pulse ignited again in your sleep. Set the whole back wall on fire. Almost killed us both."
Rui grimaced. "Sorry."
"You should be," she said bluntly. "Whatever's inside you… it's waking up."
"It's not something I can control."
"No," she said, "but it's something you'll have to answer for."
That made him look at her.
"Answer to who?" he asked.
She didn't blink. "To the people who die every time you lose control."
Her words hit harder than any punch.
Because she was right.
Later, Rui limped outside to catch his breath. The sky was bruised with dusk. Smoke still curled faintly from the direction of Wutai, and he could smell ash in the wind.
He stared at the horizon.
So many people gone.
Because he existed.
Yan Zhi joined him in silence, arms still crossed.
"You blame yourself," she said.
"I should."
"No," she said. "You're not responsible for what Jiang Fei did. But you are responsible for what comes next."
He looked at her. "You said the dragon… was afraid. Why?"
"I think," she said slowly, "it recognized something worse."
The rocks behind them trembled.
And then came the growl.
Not loud. Not threatening.
But ancient.
The glow returned—those same golden veins in the stone.
Rui and Yan Zhi stepped back as the wall of the cave split open, revealing a narrow chamber hidden behind jagged rock. At the center of the room sat a stone platform—and floating above it, a heart-shaped flame. No smoke. No heat.
Just a presence.
Rui took a step forward.
It pulsed once.
And then a voice entered his mind.
"So you woke me."
He staggered. "What the hell—"
The flame pulsed again, and a spectral figure emerged from it—a man, tall, cloaked in old robes, his eyes twin infernos.
"You carry my fire. The last breath of the First Dragon Lord. You are my vessel."
Rui shook his head. "I'm not anyone's vessel."
The figure's gaze sharpened. "You already are. The moment your blood accepted the pulse, the moment you opened the scroll, you became part of me. Part of the war I left unfinished."
"What war?"
"The one that never ended. The Dragon Heirs were scattered—broken, corrupted. Some sealed. Some forgotten. But now, the seals break. One by one, the others rise."
Rui clenched his fists. "What do they want?"
"Your pulse."
Yan Zhi stepped closer, eyes wary. "Can it hear me?"
The flame turned toward her. "Yes. You have blood on your hands. You carry shadow and steel. But your path is still yours."
Rui narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying there are more like me?"
"Seven. You are the eighth. The last. The unchosen."
"The others—are they all evil?"
"They were children once. But pain rewrites people."
Rui's voice turned cold. "So what does that make me?"
"It makes you the one they will hunt first."
The vision faded.
The flame vanished.
And Rui stood there, shaking.
For the first time in days, he felt something heavier than power.
Doom.
Yan Zhi broke the silence.
"So. You're not the only one."
He nodded. "And they're coming."
"Then we move."
He looked at her, surprised. "You still want to help me?"
"I don't help people," she said flatly. "I kill people who deserve it. Right now, they want you dead. That makes me interested."
Rui let out a weak laugh. "That your idea of a loyalty speech?"
"I don't do speeches either," she said. "Just don't give me a reason to regret saving your life."
That night, they prepared to leave the cave.
Yan Zhi loaded her blades. Rui tested his footwork—still weak, but recovering.
"We need to find the First Breath scroll," he said. "The dragon mentioned it. Said it's the only way to master the pulse."
"I've heard of it," she said. "My sect had a record once. Said it was buried in a temple far north, past the Iron Vale. Inside a place called the Shrine of Xunlan."
"How far?"
"Four days by foot. Three if we don't sleep."
Rui nodded.
"We go at sunrise."
As he laid back against the stone wall, Rui stared at the flickering shadows above.
His thoughts wouldn't stop.
Seven others.
All with Dragon Pulse.
All twisted.
And him—the unchosen one.
Why?
What made him different?
His hands curled into fists.
Maybe it didn't matter.
Maybe he'd find each one and put them down himself.
Even if it killed him.
But just before sleep took him, something shifted in the wind.
A whisper. Cold. Like fingers brushing the back of his neck.
He opened his eyes—
And saw a single claw mark scorched into the stone beside him.
Not there before.
Carved beneath it, in blood-black script, were four words:
"She is not alone."
.