The mountain was silent when Yeret opened his eyes again.
He could no longer tell how long it had been since the storm — hours, days, maybe longer. But the air had changed. It was heavier, thicker, as though the very world was holding its breath.
His robes were torn, and the ground around him was scorched black. Cracks spread outward like veins in stone, glowing faintly with ember-red light. The once-dead summit now pulsed with a strange rhythm — life and death blending together.
And within Yeret's chest, something new stirred.
A fire, cold and alive.
"You live," murmured the voice within him, low and resonant.
Yeret didn't answer immediately. He rose to his feet, unsteady, looking down at his hands. The veins beneath his skin shimmered faintly black. When he clenched his fist, embers seeped from between his fingers, devouring the rain that still dripped from the cliffs.
"What… did you do to me?" he asked.
"You took my seed into your soul," the spirit replied, calm and ancient. "Now we are bound. You are flesh; I am flame. Together, we will burn all that stands before us."
Yeret frowned. "And if I decide to reject you?"
"You would die screaming. Slowly."
He smirked, though there was little humor in it. "So, I guess we'll have to get along, then."
The spirit chuckled — a sound like fire breathing.
"Indeed."
Yeret descended the mountain at dawn.
The mists parted before him, recoiling as though afraid. For the first time in years, he could feel spiritual energy gathering toward him — qi flowing into his broken dantian like rivers returning to the sea.
But it was different.
It was not pure or bright like the azure flames he once cultivated. It was dense, heavy… hungry. Every breath he took seemed to consume the light around him, drinking in even the warmth of the sun.
When he reached the base of Tianglen, he found a river — or what used to be one. Now it was little more than a ribbon of ash, its waters stained red from the storm's wrath.
As he knelt to drink, the reflection in the water caught his eye.
His face was the same, but his eyes — they were darker, swirling with faint crimson threads that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Is this… corruption?" he asked quietly.
"No," the spirit whispered. "It is truth. The world calls it corruption because it fears what it cannot control. Do not reject it. Master it."
Yeret stared into the water for a long moment, then nodded.
"I will."
Hours passed as he walked through the ruins at the mountain's base. The remnants of the old Azure Spirit Sect lay scattered across the valley — shattered pillars, burned banners, the bones of those who once called him brother.
He stopped beside a collapsed archway, brushing aside a piece of stone until he uncovered a broken token — the sect insignia still faintly visible.
"The Azure Spirit Sect," he murmured, his voice trembling. "You were supposed to protect the realm… and we couldn't even protect ourselves."
He clenched the token until it cracked.
"Do you seek vengeance?" asked the spirit.
Yeret's answer was soft but steady. "No."
A pause.
"No?"
"I seek balance. If the world wants to devour the weak… then I'll become the fire that devours the world."
"Well spoken," the spirit hissed approvingly.
As night fell, Yeret made camp beneath a massive, withered tree. The forest around him was unnaturally quiet — no birds, no insects, only the low hum of distant energy. He sat cross-legged, channeling the new qi within him, shaping it, forcing it to obey.
Each breath made the ground tremble slightly.
Each exhale left a faint shimmer in the air — waves of black flame that flickered without heat.
For a moment, peace settled.
Then the silence broke.
A roar — deep, primal, shaking the leaves — erupted from the forest. The earth quivered beneath Yeret's feet as something massive crashed through the trees.
From the darkness emerged a Crimson-Furred Direwolf, twice the height of a man, eyes glowing with spirit-light. Its fur burned faintly at the tips, smoke trailing from its breath.
A Spirit Beast, third rank — powerful enough to kill an untrained cultivator in seconds.
It had smelled the corruption within Yeret.
And it hungered for it.
"A fine test," the spirit murmured within him. "Let us see what this new body of ours can do."
Yeret rose slowly, the faint black fire swirling around his hands.
The wolf circled, muscles tense, growling low and deep.
Then it lunged.
In a blur of motion, claws slashed through the air — Yeret barely dodged, spinning aside. His instincts screamed, but his mind was calm. His right hand moved without thought, guided by something ancient inside him.
The air around his palm distorted — a flame, black as shadow, ignited.
When it touched the beast, the fire didn't burn outward — it burned inward. The Direwolf howled, thrashing wildly as its life essence was devoured. The black flame spread through its veins like a plague, consuming everything from the inside out.
Yeret watched in silence as the beast collapsed, its body turning to ash before hitting the ground.
The forest went still again.
The scent of burnt iron filled the air.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.
For a moment, the silence felt peaceful… and terrifying.
"You devoured its essence," the spirit whispered, satisfied. "And with it, you've strengthened your foundation."
Yeret could feel it — his qi flow had stabilized. The cracks in his dantian had sealed slightly. His cultivation had risen, even if only a fraction.
So this was the Path of the Devouring Flame.
To consume. To absorb. To rise.
He looked at the ashes of the beast, the faint wind scattering them into nothing.
"Then I'll walk this path," he said quietly. "Even if it means walking alone."
"You will not be alone," the spirit replied. "You have me."
Yeret smirked faintly.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Far above, in the shadowed peaks, unseen eyes watched from the darkness — cultivators cloaked in crimson.
"The reports were true," one whispered. "Someone has reawakened the Devouring Flame."
The leader's gaze was cold, his voice sharp.
"Then the prophecy begins anew."
He turned toward the burning horizon, where a faint black glow pulsed over the mountain.
"Find him," he ordered. "Before he finds us."
And deep in the forest, surrounded by the ashes of his first kill, Yeret Reagam opened his eyes once more — their glow brighter, fiercer.
The first step had been taken.
The world of cultivation was stirring again.
And the fire of rebirth had only just begun.