Life. Death. Life. Death.

Fire.

The world burned. No. The world was burning. The entire world was composed of nothing but fire, and burning, and fire. She opened her eyes to flames, and screamed.

Or tried to. The second her mouth opened, the flames rushed inside. They burned up her tongue, seared her lips, ignited her cheeks, shot down her throat and incinerated her vocal cords. Everything burned to ash.

And healed. In the next second, everything grew back. Her tongue, her lips, her cheeks, her throat, everything returned. She managed to scream for a second before they burned again, only to rush back again.

A precious moment of silence.

The voices began once more. Shouting. Screaming. Some simply chirped or cried out, so far gone that only animal instincts remained. In the midst of her anguish, they mocked her, screamed at her, cursed her name. She had nothing to say in return. They were right.

Too far. Too many. Eating one had been a risk. But the power, the power it brought her! She instantly smashed through the barriers, ascending directly to the next realm. Another, another. With each realm, she needed more phoenixes. More. But there were only so many.

On the verge of Immortal ascension, she searched the entire land, scouring it for the last of the phoenixes. A hundred. Two hundred. Immortal ascension hovered before her eyes, a hair’s breadth from her reach, and yet, impossible to grasp. One more phoenix. Surely, if she ate one more phoenix…!

She burned. She burned, but she suppressed it. One phoenix remained. The phoenix king, the last phoenix standing. She cornered him and defeated him. He cursed her as he died. And as he died, she lit on fire.

Her disciple tried to save her. Tried desperately, tried everything. In her pain, she went mad, and she crashed across the realm, burning up anything she encountered. The land around her burned, the mountains singeing to ash, the trees snapping and cracking like kindling. Cultivators came to stop her. Her disciple tried to warn them away, but they wouldn’t stop. They attacked, striking her with all their power.

They, too, burned. She burned. Everything burned. Even her disciple. Though he never abandoned her, neither could he approach. She thrashed madly, her world nothing but pain, unable to fight, unable to stop burning, unable to think, and he still remained at her side.

The land around her became an ashen wasteland. As far as the eye could see, only ashes remained. Her flames flattened all the mountains, leveled all the sects and towns. She stood alone, her, the ashes, and her faithful disciple. Occasionally, a hero would appear and challenge her, but it always ended the same. With ash, and fire.

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Until one day. A man. An orthodox cultivator with long black hair and white robes, eyes flashing, a sword in one hand and a crow on his shoulder.

Ah! It’s Fen Long!

She furrowed her brows. She didn’t know that man’s name. So why…

It didn’t matter. This, too, would end the same. She rushed toward him.

I… where am I? I was—

A bubble encased her. The man said something, but she screamed, in too much pain to listen. His brows furrowed. He waved his hand, and she vanished. The last thing she saw was her disciple, rushing at the man.

Ah, that’s right. I remember now!

Nothing. A dark void. An oppressive wall above her. Nothing to distract her from the flames and the pain. She screamed, burning again.

Er, excuse me, Elder Sister… rather than your past, would you mind reminiscing about your cultivation techniques?

What? That voice. What was it?

Merely… a small bug! Never mind, never mind me. Cultivation techniques, Elder Sister! Surely you can remember yours?

Her brows furrowed. Cultivation techniques? She hadn’t thought about them in so long. Her anguish was too great, the cycle of life and death too short. It was impossible to recall her cultivation techniques.

If I take on Elder Sister’s pain, would that help?

How? How would the voice accomplish that? No one could take on her pain. It was too immense. No mind could bear that burden.

I don’t have to take it all. I’ll simply lighten your load.

Her pain lessened. For the first time in uncountable time, her pain lessened. She let out a slow breath, her shoulders sagging. Relief flooded through her. Her entire body unwound, muscles untensing. She shivered, the lack of pain becoming pleasure for a moment.

Ahem! Elder Sister, cultivation?

That voice annoyed her. She looked around, frowning.

Pay no mind, no mind. Elder Sister, now that there’s less pain, perhaps you should cultivate?

Her brows furrowed, but a moment later, she shook her head. The voice has a point. I haven’t been able to focus enough to cultivate in ages. Now that I have the chance, I would be remiss not to take it.

Yes, yes. Please hurry. I’ve taken on your pain, but I can’t extend your lifespan. Only Elder Sister can accomplish that.

“Who are you?” she asked. The words faltered on her tongue as the fire continued to burn her. Only the pain had lessened, after all. The fire still burned her, and her body still shivered, incinerated one moment, only to grow back the next.

Consider me an assistant. I’m… acquainted with your disciple, Han Qin.

“Han Qin? Ah… is that the name he’s going by nowadays?” she murmured, half to herself.

Ah, yes. He was trying to find you, Senior. Trying to release you.

“My foolish disciple… he should have abandoned me long ago. I would hate if he abandoned his own cultivation in attempting to release me, when I’m already so far gone.”

Mmm, well… he’s on the verge of Immortal ascension. I think he’s repressing his ascension by means of a hidden realm and some kind of treasured throne.

She chuckled. “Good. I hope he didn’t hold back his ascension for me.”

Er, I think he did, the voice replied nervously.

“Foolish,” she murmured. Her eyes shut. She focused her energy inward.

Ah, Senior! Before you meditate… what’s your name?

“Huo Fenghuang is what I’ve been called, for as long as I can remember. And you?”

You—you can call me Xiao Hui!