Azren turned the jade tablet slowly in his palm, watching as faint lines of light shimmered across its smooth surface. At first, it revealed nothing — until a white symbol flared into being.
His breath caught.
The Life Emperor's imprint…
It was the same mark he had once glimpsed within Erdi's old villa, etched upon the wall of his secret chamber. Without hesitation, Azren left the Inner Hall and headed for that place.
The old villa was silent, long abandoned, yet as peaceful as if the chaos of the world could never touch it. The air itself was still, serene — like a sanctuary cut off from reality.
When the jade tablet came close to the hidden symbol, both began to glow, threads of light intertwining until the chamber itself trembled.
Then, a virtual image emerged from the jade. A woman draped in flowing robes of white, her presence overwhelming yet ethereal. The Life Emperor herself.
Her voice resonated like a calm tide yet carried the weight of mountains.
"Azren… listen carefully. A great danger has awakened."
The chamber darkened around him, shadows bending to her words.
"A new clan head has appeared in the Tred Clan — a cultivator whose power surpasses all expectations. No one can stop him as he is now. He has set his eyes upon you… because of what happened within the Earth Dragon Tribe."
Azren's chest tightened, his mind flashing back to the dragon's furious roar.
The Life Emperor's image continued, unshaken.
"The Earth Dragon spoke truth — you carry a bloodline…" her voice faltered slightly, almost as if choosing her words, "…a bloodline bound to grudges older than this continent itself. And because of that, he will not rest until you are erased."
The jade trembled as her image pressed closer, her tone firm and sharp.
"This clan head exited his retreat after centuries, awakened by vengeance. He believes that if you are allowed to grow, you will reach the most powerful stage of Arka… and surpass even emperors. That cannot be permitted in his eyes. He will kill you at any cost."
Her image dimmed slightly, the glow fading into threads.
"The Tred Clan is not to be taken lightly. Their territory is filled with Emperors… to step into their domain is to invite death. For now, do not worry. Your path is not yet theirs to end."
The jade's glow flickered, and her image dissolved into the silence of the chamber.
Azren stood motionless, his fists tightening, his breath ragged.
Bloodline… targeted… the Tred Clan head himself…
His heart burned with both fury and determination.
The silent villa seemed to whisper around him, echoing the name of a truth yet unrevealed:
Heavenly Dragon… or Dragon Slaying.
Just as Azren made his vow, the jade tablet pulsed once more. A faint ripple spread across its surface, and the Life Emperor's voice echoed again, softer this time, yet filled with authority.
"Azren… before you rush to the City of Life, your path must take a different turn. Head to the Library of Arka. It lies within the territory of the Flame Emperor. The jade I have given you will guide you, and it will open the path into his domain."
The glow of the jade dimmed, and the chamber once again fell silent.
Azren's eyes narrowed. The Library of Arka… He had heard whispers of it before — a place said to contain records older than dynasties, truths too dangerous for ordinary cultivators to read.
Regia stepped forward, her voice cautious. "The Flame Emperor's territory… that's one of the most dangerous domains in all of Arka. Azren, even you—"
But Azren interrupted her with a faint smile. "Even me? Regia, you should know by now… the more dangerous the place, the more answers I'll find."
Max scoffed, his arms crossed. "Tch. You're insane if you think the Flame Emperor will just let you walk into his lands. But if you're really going, then I suppose I'll tag along. I'd like to see what's so special about this 'Library.'"
Azren clenched the jade tablet in his hand, its faint warmth spreading into his palm.
"Flame Emperor's territory or not… if this jade can take me there, then I'll find the answers I'm searching for. My bloodline, my enemies, my fate… everything begins there."
The winds stirred as if answering his resolve. The Library of Arka awaited.
—
The southern continent.
It was not like the cold east or the endless plains of the north. Here, fire itself ruled. Volcanoes lined the horizon like titans of stone and flame, their peaks eternally spitting embers into the skies. Rivers glowed faintly red, carrying warmth instead of chill, and even the winds burned against the skin.
This was the territory of the Flame Emperor.
He was the only sovereign besides the Tred Clan who ruled with more than ten Emperors beneath him, a force so overwhelming that even the Life Emperor herself would hesitate to provoke him needlessly. His strength, combined with the loyalty of his vassals, made the southern continent the third most powerful country in Arka.
It was said that under his rule, weakness had no place. Only those who could burn brighter than the flames themselves could rise.
As the trio crossed into this land, even Azren felt the weight of the air press against him — thick with fiery essentia, as if the territory itself rejected outsiders.
Regia glanced around warily. "So this is the Flame Emperor's domain…" she murmured, sweat beading on her forehead. Her aura was still unstable after her near-death revival, and the heavy fire energy only made her weaker.
Max, on the other hand, breathed deeply, his eyes gleaming. "Hah. Fierce air. It sharpens the soul." His aura flickered like a torch — he had just broken into the peak of the Spirit Stage, the flames feeding his breakthrough.
Azren remained silent, his gaze steady. The dragon seal within him stirred faintly, reacting to the fire-soaked air. So this is the land where the Library of Arka lies…
The journey was merciless.
Across forests of crimson trees and molten rivers, they fought endless monsters twisted by fire. Fiery serpents lunged from lava streams, beasts with molten hides shook the ground with each step, and flocks of flame-winged birds rained embers from the skies.
Every clash drained their strength, yet also tempered their resolve.
By the time they crossed the last flame-scorched ridge, Max's aura had solidified to its peak, a steady blaze around him. But Regia's condition grew worse — her steps faltered, her face pale.
Azren noticed immediately. One night, as she tried to hide her trembling hands, he sat beside her beneath the glow of burning skies.
"You're not fully recovered. Your revival… it wasn't complete."
Regia turned away, her lips pressing together. "I'll be fine. Don't burden yourself with me."
But Azren's eyes were resolute.
"Once we deal with the Library… I'll focus on you. I'll make sure you're fully healed, no matter what it takes."
His vow struck deep, and Regia's heart trembled. She said nothing more, but her hand curled into his, silently accepting his words.
As for Azren himself, the trials had pushed him into the mid-stage of Soul Illumination. But now a new barrier loomed before him.
The time had come to form his Soul Image.
When the three finally reached the outer walls of Ferst City, the capital of the Flame Emperor's lands, the sight left them breathless.
Vast towers of black stone, inscribed with glowing red runes, rose like burning pillars into the heavens. Rivers of molten light flowed through the streets, powering formations that protected the city from both beasts and intruders. Cultivators filled the streets, their auras sharp and heavy — every one of them stronger than the disciples of Aiden Hall.
Ferst was no ordinary city. It was the very furnace where the Flame Emperor's might was forged.
Azren paused at the gate, his dragon seal faintly glowing against his chest. His aura flickered like a storm as his eyes narrowed.
This was the place. The perfect forge to carve his soul image.
And then, Kravon's remnant soul appeared beside him, his tone sharp as steel.
"Brat. Listen carefully. You have only one chance to form your Soul Image. Your body already carries powers beyond its limits — the dragon seal, the chaos essentia, your bloodline. If you fail here… you'll lose everything. All your cultivation. Your journey will end."
The words hung heavy, and even Max fell silent.
But Azren's expression did not falter. His grey eyes burned like tempered steel as he stepped forward.
"Then I'll succeed. I don't have the right to fail."
___
The blazing gates of Ferst City loomed above them, runes of fire glowing faintly across the black stone walls. As Azren, Regia, and Max stepped through, the air shifted.
Within moments, the three were surrounded.
Dozens of armored guards appeared, their auras sharp, each one radiating the pressure of Spirit Convergence. Their weapons gleamed with runes, and three captains, far stronger than the rest, stood at the front, their eyes locked on Azren.
"You there, boy in black," one of them barked. "Show your permission for entering Ferst City."
Azren calmly lifted his hand, revealing the jade token gifted by the Life Emperor. The symbol pulsed faintly in his palm.
But the guards frowned. They didn't recognize the seal.
Suspicion turned to hostility. They began pelting him with sharp, disrespectful questions — questioning his origin, his right to enter, even mocking his cultivation.
Regia's eyes darkened, her fists trembling. But before she could speak, Max stepped forward. His aura flared like a blade being unsheathed.
"You rats," he spat coldly, his voice slicing through the air. "You don't have the qualifications to speak such words."
With a single breath, Max released a sliver of his Life Splitting Aura. The ground trembled, and the air cracked. The guards staggered backward, faces pale, their weapons trembling in their hands.
One of the captains shouted in panic, "Call a master! Now!"
Moments later, a figure descended from the sky — a man draped in crimson robes, his aura vast and oppressive, no less terrifying than Master Erdi himself. The Master of Ferst City had arrived.
"These are the ones who offended the guards of our city," the captain reported, bowing low.
The Master's sharp gaze swept across Azren and Max.
"Show me your token."
Azren extended the jade once more. The moment the Master's eyes landed on the symbol, his expression changed. His face stiffened, and then — with visible effort — he bowed his head.
"My apologies," he said gravely. "We did not know this was the token of the Life Emperor. To have disrespected her guest… is a grave mistake."
Azren's voice was calm, almost cold.
"There's no need for apologies. Let it end here."
But the Master of Ferst City did not dare leave it at that. He gestured for them to follow, leading them through the flaming streets to the heart of the city — a towering palace where the heat of fire itself seemed alive.
At its highest hall, upon a throne of molten stone, sat the Flame Emperor. His presence filled the chamber, his eyes glowing like embers as he studied the three newcomers.
The Master bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, these people are from the Life Emperor's domain. They have come with her token. Their destination… is the Library of Arka."
The Flame Emperor's lips curled faintly, an expression between curiosity and disdain. His stern voice echoed through the hall.
"The Library of Arka… Even I have no authority to meddle with its restrictions."
But as his gaze lingered on Azren, his expression shifted ever so slightly — an involuntary smile flickering across his face, as though amused by some unseen truth.
He leaned back on his throne, his tone heavy with weight.
"Still, they carry the Life Emperor's mark. That alone makes them untouchable. She is not one I can easily offend. The only Emperor to ever reach the advanced final stage of Emperor — the one who defeated the Tred Clan's chief decades ago, standing alone against a host of Emperors… It is because of her that the Life Emperor's country stands as the second most powerful nation in Arka."
His voice boomed through the hall, every word striking like thunder.
"Since you are her guests, I will not obstruct you. The Library is yours to seek."
The Flame Emperor's eyes glowed like molten fire as he studied Azren from his throne. His voice rolled like thunder.
"Tell me, boy… what is it that you seek in the Library of Arka?"
Azren stepped forward, his black robe brushing against the burning tiles of the hall. His gaze did not waver.
"I want to uncover the truth about the Heavenly Dragon Clan."
The chamber fell silent. Even Regia and Max turned toward him in surprise, but Azren's expression was steady.
For the first time, the Flame Emperor's stern face shifted. He leaned back on his throne, one hand resting against the molten armrest, and his fiery aura pulsed faintly.
"The Heavenly Dragon Clan…" he repeated slowly, as though tasting the words.
But instead of an answer, he let out a low, rumbling laugh that echoed like cracking flames.
"You search for ghosts."
Azren's jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"
The Flame Emperor's gaze sharpened, flames flickering in his eyes.
"As far as the records of Arka go, the Heavenly Dragon Clan was never truly of this continent. They were something else. A force beyond the bloodlines we know here. Even I… do not possess the full truth."
He let the words hang heavy, then leaned forward slightly.
"If you wish to uncover that secret, there is only one place it can be found — within the Library itself."
Azren's chest tightened, his determination only hardening.
The Flame Emperor's expression grew serious again.
"But entry into the Library is not something you can demand with a jade alone. There is a token — one that grants passage past its restrictions. Without it, even I could not walk its halls."
Regia stepped forward, her eyes steady. "Then how do we obtain it?"
The Flame Emperor gave a faint smile, his voice low and sharp.
"In two days, the Grand Auction of Ferst City will be held in the auction hall. Many rare treasures will surface, and among them… a Library token. If you wish to enter, you must claim it."
Max's lips curled into a half-smile, his aura flickering with excitement. "An auction, huh? At least that sounds more fun than being grilled by guards."
Azren, however, only nodded, his mind already set.
"Then I'll take the token. No matter the cost."
The Flame Emperor's burning gaze lingered on him a moment longer, as though measuring the fire within the boy before him. Then he waved his hand.
"Very well. Rest in Ferst City. But remember this — many eyes will be upon that auction. Power, greed, ambition… all will clash. If you falter even slightly, you will be crushed."
The words thundered like a prophecy.
Azren clenched his fists, the dragon seal faintly glowing beneath his robe.
Heavenly Dragon Clan… Dragon Slayers… whatever the truth is, I'll find it.
Azren stood quietly atop a high mountain ridge overlooking Ferst City. The city's brilliance stretched out beneath him like a sea of fireflies — lanterns glowing, towers burning with flame sigils, and countless cultivators moving like sparks in the night. The distant roar of furnaces and the faint hum of flame formations gave the city its heartbeat.
He exhaled softly. So this is the land ruled by the Flame Emperor… burning yet alive.
"Don't think too much."
A soft, familiar voice broke the silence.
Azren turned slightly, his eyes catching the gentle smile of Regia. Her hair shimmered faintly under the crimson moonlight, and the pink dragon seal on her shoulder glowed softly, as though resonating with him.
"Regia… aren't you asleep?" he asked.
She stepped closer, her eyes reflecting the flaming cityscape. "How could I possibly sleep… when I have the chance to watch this beautiful night view of Ferst City… with you?"
Azren was stunned for a heartbeat, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles.
Regia's voice lowered, a little shaky, as though her heart was exposed. "Back then, when I was half-dead… when I thought I'd never open my eyes again… it was you who called me back. Now, even if this city burns, even if we face emperors, I'll walk beside you."
Azren looked at her, the glow of the city reflecting in his gray eyes. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, his voice steady yet heavy with unspoken weight.
"Then promise me, Regia… don't let go of me. Because soon… the truth I'm chasing might tear the world apart."
She leaned closer, her smile faint but unwavering.
"Even then… I'll hold on."
The night wind howled over the mountain peak, carrying their words into the flames of the city below. And as Azren looked at the glowing horizon, his dragon seal pulsed faintly, reminding him that this peace would not last — the auction was near, and with it, the key to the truth.
The morning light spilled gently through the carved windows of the inner hall. Azren sat in silence, sipping a cup of bitter tea, when Regia, Kravon's faint projection, and Max gathered in his room. For the first time since entering Ferst City, the air was heavy, filled with an unspoken tension.
Azren frowned, setting the cup aside. "Why are your faces so stern? Did something happen?"
Regia shifted uneasily, her eyes carrying worry. "It's not the city, Azren… it's you. Your spiritual essentia has been drained too deeply. On the journey here, you pushed yourself too far — fighting without rest, absorbing beast after beast. Your foundation is unstable. To restore it, you'd need one or two weeks of closed cultivation."
Azren's eyes narrowed. "Two weeks? That long…"
Kravon's phantom form flickered into view, his tone unusually calm. "If you force yourself into another breakthrough now, brat, you'll collapse your own meridians. For safety, Regia and I must remain sealed in your energy sea, only as soul forms, until your body recovers."
Azren clenched his fists. He wanted strength, yet his own body was betraying him.
Max broke the silence, standing tall, his aura faintly crackling. "I can't delay either. I'm close to stepping into the Soul Illumination stage. If I don't seize this chance, I'll miss it. I'll be in closed retreat starting today."
Azren looked at each of them, realizing the truth — he would be left alone.
Regia lowered her head. "I'll stay in your sea of chi for now, Azren. Even if I want to fight beside you, in this state, I'd only become your burden."
For a long moment, Azren said nothing. Finally, he nodded slowly. "If this is the only way, then I'll allow it. But don't think this ends here. When I return, none of you will have to worry about me again."
Max moved toward the door, his voice dropping as he gave one final instruction.
"Azren… take care of my sister. She trusts you more than anyone. If anything happens to her while I'm in retreat, I'll never forgive you."
Azren smirked faintly, though his eyes carried weight. "Don't worry. Even if I die, she won't fall."
With that, Max departed, leaving only silence behind. Regia and Kravon faded into his inner world, their presences retreating into soul form.
Azren stood alone in the vast quiet hall, staring out the window at the glowing spires of Ferst City. His chest tightened, but his resolve sharpened.
"Looks like I'll be walking into the auction alone… so be it. If fate wants to test me, I'll show it what I am."
The auction house of Ferst City was overflowing with power. Cultivators from across the Flame Emperor's territory gathered—each radiating an aura Azren could barely comprehend. He scanned the grand hall, his eyes narrowing.
Transformation stage… and even higher? His chest tightened. Just being here felt like standing in a sea of giants.
Among them, one figure stood out. A girl cloaked in black robes, her face hidden behind a mask. Unlike the others, her aura didn't just overwhelm him—it vanished altogether. There was no pressure, no energy leaking, nothing. She was like a void.
And yet, when she turned ever so slightly in his direction, Azren's breath hitched. His instincts screamed that this girl was far more dangerous than anyone else in the hall.
The black-robed girl tilted her head and—smiled.
Just then, the heavy golden doors of the auction house opened. A procession of beautiful attendants stepped gracefully onto the stage, their voices clear and melodious as they bowed.
"Welcome, esteemed guests, to the grand Flame Auction of Ferst City!"
Polite applause rippled through the chamber. Azren was guided to his private seat, a chamber on the second level, lined with glowing formations for privacy. He settled in quietly—only for his heart to skip when the black-robed girl walked in and entered the chamber directly beside his.
A shadow flickered across Azren's face. He leaned closer to the thin dividing wall and spoke in a low voice.
"If you're already here," he said coldly, "then take off the mask. I recognized you at first glance."
A soft laugh escaped the girl's lips. "Ah… the great Azren. No wonder she holds such interest in you. Don't worry, I won't dare harm you. Not today."
Her slender fingers rose. With a deliberate motion, she removed the mask.
Azren's pupils contracted.
There she was. Tender yet commanding, a beauty both familiar and distant. Aaya.
But not the same Aaya he had seen before. Draped in elegant black, her presence radiated nobility and mystery. It was as if she belonged to an entirely different world.
"You…" Azren's tone grew colder, though his chest felt strangely heavy. "By your behavior, it's likely you're the real culprit behind all this."
Aaya met his gaze, her eyes soft but unreadable.
Azren let out a long breath, forcing himself to look away. "But this time, I'll let it go. You owe me once. Remember that."
Her lips curved faintly, but she said nothing more.
The auction bells rang, silencing the chamber. The event was about to begin.
The auction hall fell into a hush as the bells tolled. Lanterns of molten glass swung gently above the crowd, casting wavering light over faces masked by ambition. Azren sat rigid, every muscle taut; across the thin divider, Aaya's presence felt like a quiet storm.
She spoke first — not with an accusation but with a softness that cut deeper than any blade. "Azren… you think I don't know how far you are from Soul Illumination? You think I don't hear the same words from Gray? It's pathetic how the Life Emperor uses you like a weapon for the wars to come."
Her tone held no malice, only a cold clarity. "I know what it takes to master the dark essentia. I know what it means to train alone through the night, to spar with transformation-stage cultivators until your bones scream. You've always been more outstanding than I was."
Azren's jaw tightened. The hall's murmurs — distant, indifferent — blurred at the edges. He kept his voice clipped. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I don't believe you'd harm Asthough." He said the name plainly, as if testing how it landed in the air.
Aaya laughed softly, a sound that was equal parts amusement and warning. She leaned closer, so close that the fine carved screen between them seemed only a nominal barrier. Her dark eyes searched him.
"Let's get to the point," Azren said, and his words lost their edge, grew dense with meaning.
Aaya's smile vanished. For a single beat she looked older, almost tired. "I don't want money," she said. "Repay me for saving your life."
Azren blinked. "How do you expect me to repay that?"
She tilted her head. "I don't need gold. I want the Library jade."
The name hung like a bell in Azren's mind — the token that opened the Library's doors. For a moment he could only stare. The auction was about to begin, and beneath the carved rafters of Ferst City, every eye turned to the stage.
"You can't seriously ask that," Azren breathed.
"I can," Aaya replied simply. "And I don't ask as a beggar. I'll get it — one way or another. You can hand it to me willingly, or you can try to keep it and watch me take it by force." Her voice tightened. "You know I don't like wasting breath on threats. Choose."
Azren's hands curled into fists beneath the table. Kravon's presence in his sea of chi was a silent tremor at the edge of his mind — warning, calculation. Regia's pale face materialized for a fraction of a second in his thoughts, and he thought of the auction token that could open the Library where answers waited.
He swallowed. "If I give it to you," he said slowly, "what then? You vanish into the records and leave me with nothing?"
Aaya's reply was unexpected — not harsh, but honest. "I don't take for myself. I take to protect what I can. And because of what you are, you're dangerous even to those who raised you. The Library's truths won't just change you — they'll change the way others hunt you. Let me have the token. Trust me once more."
The auctioneer's voice rose on the stage, calling attention to the first lot. Cloths of flame, elixirs distilled from lava-sprouts, a chest of rare spirit-ore — small temptations that drew polite bids from the crowd. Behind the curtains, the thing Aaya wanted could surface any moment.
Azren found himself weighing her words against the life he'd been ordered to build — a life of secrecy, training, and blood. He could feel the Dragon Seal thrumming under his heart, like a second pulse. It told him the truth he could not yet admit: some debts should not be paid with trust alone.
For a breath he considered defiance. Then he did what he'd always done when choice narrowed to a blade-edge — he bowed his head to his purpose.
"You'll have the token," he said at last. "But not without a price."
Aaya's lips curved. "Name it."
Azren met her gaze. "You protect Regia and the path I must walk. If any hand reaches for me in the name of the Life Emperor — or for you — you'll stand against them."
For a heartbeat the hall seemed to hold its breath. Then Aaya's answer was a single, resolute nod.
"Deal," she said softly. "Now watch the auction, brat. The token will surface soon."
The stage lights flared. Somewhere down below, a rare chest was unlocked and its contents displayed. The auction had begun — and with it, a thousand hungry eyes turned toward the prize that might decide Azren's next step.