The Phoenix Grave no longer burned with hostility.
After Liu Shen reclaimed the Third Abyssal Beacon, the eternal blaze receded into the depths of the crater, revealing ancient ruins once concealed beneath molten stone. Statues of long-forgotten phoenix lords and demon generals lined the charred pathways. The wind no longer shrieked—it whispered.
Yu Meixing traced her fingers across a scorched mural half-buried in soot. "This tells the story of the Flame Pact."
Liu Shen stepped beside her, his gaze distant. "A forgotten alliance… between my army and the Phoenix Clan during the first war against the heavens."
Lei Qing whistled low. "So the phoenixes weren't always neutral."
"They weren't," Liu Shen said. "They bled for our cause. Their flames once shielded my citadel from divine lightning."
As if responding to his voice, the ruins rumbled. A section of the mural cracked, revealing a staircase descending into the dark—a vault of memories sealed by blood and fire.
At its base, they found a massive obsidian door etched with phoenix feathers and demonic runes.
"The Pact Chamber," Meixing whispered.
Liu Shen drew blood from his palm and pressed it against the seal. A low growl resonated from within the stone—and the door opened.
Inside, a circle of flames hovered above ancient pedestals, each flame a soul-bound contract. Ghostly figures shimmered—phantoms of the phoenix lords who had once stood by his side.
But something was wrong.
One flame was flickering, corrupted, stained with a golden hue.
Liu Shen's eyes narrowed. "One of the phoenix lords betrayed the pact."
Meixing looked at him sharply. "Do you think they aligned with the heavens?"
"No," he said coldly. "They aligned with themselves."
Suddenly, the chamber trembled. From the depths of the flame circle, a voice rose—cracked with age, laced with guilt.
"Sovereign… forgive me…"
A figure materialized. It was not fully phoenix nor fully man—a withered soul tied to the last flame. Wings scorched, eyes hollow, he knelt before Liu Shen.
"I was weak," the spirit said. "When the heavens descended, I chose to seal the Beacon instead of dying beside you. I thought… if I could preserve it, your will would one day return."
"You defied the pact," Liu Shen said. "But you preserved its hope."
The spirit looked up, weeping fire. "Will you rekindle the Pact of Flames?"
Liu Shen stepped into the circle. "Only if the phoenixes are ready to rise again. I do not want servants—I want allies."
Above the chamber, the skies began to shimmer with red feathers—messengers from the distant Phoenix Nest, drawn by the awakening flame.
One by one, the flames in the circle reignited.
A new pact was being formed—not one of subjugation, but of shared vengeance.
Meixing stepped beside Liu Shen and whispered, "The phoenixes will follow you again."
Liu Shen's gaze hardened.
"Then let the heavens know. Fire has chosen a side."
And far beyond the grave, in the imperial court of the Hollow Empire, a divine seer convulsed—golden blood dripping from her lips as a single word escaped her mouth:
"Rebellion."