The Phoenix Grave was not marked on any map.
South of the Hollow Empire, beyond the blistered sands and the shattered bones of long-dead cities, it slumbered beneath a crater where the sky never wept. The wind here tasted of ashes and old memories. Even beasts dared not approach.
This was once sacred ground—a place where phoenixes were born, and where the greatest among them fell.
And buried beneath its heart, sealed by flames that never died, was the Third Abyssal Beacon.
Liu Shen stood at the edge of the crater, his gaze heavy with recognition.
"I remember this place," he said. "It was one of the last battlefields."
Yu Meixing stepped beside him, her eyes reflecting the flickering embers in the wind. "You died here."
"Not I," Liu Shen corrected softly. "But one of my echoes. A fragment of the Sovereign's will. He was trying to guard the Beacon... and failed."
The air pulsed.
A low, droning hum vibrated through the ground, like a heartbeat buried deep beneath the soil. The phoenix fire still lived—untainted by time, untouched by decay.
Lei Qing unsheathed his blade, the edge glowing faintly in response to the heat. "Something's alive down there."
"Not something," Meixing said. "Someone."
As if summoned by her words, the air above the crater twisted.
A figure emerged from the blaze—winged, burning, and unbound. It was not a phoenix, nor human. A hybrid of both. Its feathers were blades. Its eyes were molten gold. And around its neck hung a charred medallion—bearing the mark of the Demon Sovereign.
"You return," it said, voice layered with both reverence and fury.
Liu Shen stepped forward. "I do. And I come not to claim, but to awaken."
The creature's wings flared. "Then prove your will."
In a blink, the world erupted.
Flames surged like oceans, and the ground cracked open. Liu Shen didn't retreat. He raised his hand—and black demonic light surged, devouring the fire in its path.
But the creature wasn't an enemy.
It was a guardian.
Born from a blood pact forged during the last war, it had been left behind to protect the Beacon until its true master returned.
"You are changed," the creature hissed. "Your soul is shattered. Your power, fractured."
"And still mine," Liu Shen replied.
He stepped into the fire, his skin blistering, his qi resisting—but his soul calling out.
Within the blaze, a throne appeared—broken, scorched, but unmistakable. Upon it sat a corpse wrapped in black robes, its hands clutching a glowing sphere.
A piece of his past self.
The Third Abyssal Beacon.
"I see now," Meixing murmured, tears forming. "This is where he made his last stand… where he chose to die so we could live."
Liu Shen approached the throne.
As his hand touched the sphere, flames wrapped around him—not to burn, but to remember. Visions struck his mind—memories of a thousand battles, of comrades lost, of the moment the heavens fell upon him and he laughed in defiance.
The Beacon pulsed once.
Then twice.
And then, it merged with him.
The creature knelt, wings folding inward. "The Sovereign has returned."
Liu Shen exhaled, steam rising from his skin.
"I am not yet whole," he said. "But the path is clearing."
Above them, the skies twisted.
The phoenix fire roared—not in rage, but in celebration.
And from the ashes of the past, a new flame began to rise.