Red. Again, an endless sea of red.

Cross-legged on the floor, Nana Toki cultivates, unsure how much time has slipped away.

Only fear-soaked scarlet fills her vision, like a blood moon hung too low.

She feels buried in a volcano’s throat. Scorching heat surges. Invisible waves hammer like molten iron, striking her spirit root again and again.

Her fire spirit root flickers with a weak glow, as if it might snap in the next breath.

Heat threatens to melt her bones. Nana sits amid a boundless lava sea, running the Fusion Flame Art over and over.

If someone watched now, they’d see deep within the Inner Pavilion a faint purple-red halo wreathing Nana’s body.

Her whole body radiates a frightening heat, like a kiln that refuses to cool.

“It’s the Fusion Flame Art.”

From the corner by the door.

Curled into a knot on his chair, the Grand Elder senses the disturbance within and, rarely, lifts his head. His eyes glint with a fearsome light, but his face holds a heavy gravity.

“Hundreds of years… has a text nearly erased from memory been unearthed again?”

He sends a thread of Spirit Energy to wrap the entire Inner Pavilion, then leans back on the vinewood chair and sighs deep.

“Perhaps this is Cloudpeak Sect’s fate.”

...

One month later.

After cycling the Fusion Flame Art through another grand circuit, Nana lets out a heavy, turbid breath.

Her right hand flips. The flame burns fiercer than during her last seclusion.

Look closely. In the heart of that fire, a strand gleams with eerie violet.

“This Fusion Flame Art isn’t ordinary.”

She snuffs the flame, then circulates qi to check her spirit root.

Her inner fire spirit root is thicker than a month ago. Her flesh has clearly leapt in strength.

“Hey, trash System, copy me this thing.”

Nana calls up the System in her mind, which has been lazing on vacation for nearly a month.

It’s useful when it works.

“But, Host, it’s a demonic art. You mustn’t train it!” The System, after reading, hesitates. “It states clearly: if you later slip into qi deviation, ten thousand fires will devour your heart. No redemption.”

“Just copy it and stop with the brushstrokes.”

Nana rolls her eyes at her System. “I know my body better than you. Don’t fuss.”

Later-stage deviation?

Not happening. Her master has dual water-wood spirit roots. With her guarding as protector, absolutely nothing will go wrong.

“...”

If the Host insists on cultivating the Fusion Flame Art, this System has no power to refuse.

However, you must not fuse any flames beyond your own before achieving Nascent Soul. Otherwise, the consequences are unimaginable.

The System’s voice turns solemn, not joking.

But.

“If I don’t fuse other flames, what’s the point?”

Fusion Flame Art is built on fusing others’ fires to temper yourself. No fusion, no art.

“In any case, the Host must do this. Deep reasons can’t be disclosed, but this System is acting for your good.”

Grudgingly, it replicates a copy of the Fusion Flame Art. Then adds, small-voiced, “Please trust this System.”

“...”

There’s no one inside the Inner Pavilion.

To the outside eye, Nana Toki just stands by the bookcase of fire spirit root techniques, staring at a copy of the Fusion Flame Art.

“Fine.”

After a brief silence, Nana returns the Fusion Flame Art to the shelf, for once obeying her System’s advice.

It’s the first time she’s seen it flat-out demand she not do something.

Maybe this technique truly hides danger. Nana gives the System’s words a little extra weight.

“Have you chosen the technique you want?”

At the Inner Pavilion door, the Grand Elder leans on the vinewood chair, lids half-lowered, hawk-sharp eyes fixed on Nana.

“Reporting to Grand Elder, this disciple has chosen.”

Holding the Azure Sea Tide Technique, Nana bows with due respect, ignoring the old man’s odd look.

“...”

“You practiced the Fusion Flame Art inside, didn’t you?”

After a brief silence, the Grand Elder finally looks away, dropping his gaze to the thin register with Nana’s entry. He asks, voice flat.

“Reporting, Elder, this disciple did cultivate the Fusion Flame Art inside.” Nana stands unruffled, bowing with hands clasped.

“Then why choose a technique that outright clashes with your spirit root, even useless to you?”

The Grand Elder’s eyes snap open. His stare spears Nana’s face, each word carrying mountain-shaking pressure. His tone brooks no refusal. “Did you pick the wrong one?”

Thick Spirit Energy crashes down like a mountain, pinning Nana and choking her breath. Her spirit root trembles under his domineering, terrifying force.

“Reporting… Elder… I did not choose wrong…”

“Absurd! Since ancient times, who’s heard of a fire spirit root cultivator training a water-root technique?”

Biting down, Nana endures the pressure. Her face flushes as blood surges. Veins stand out on her brow. Bones creak under the load, like she’ll be crushed in the next heartbeat.

She pours everything into resisting, yet that force feels like a primordial beast without bottom.

She’s mired in a bog. Every motion is hard as hauling stone.

If he wants to kill me, it’s a single thought. Panic pricks. Urgent, Nana pulls out her nominal master as shield.

Please don’t blame me, Master. I have no choice.

She apologizes in her heart, then bites hard and speaks.

“Reporting, Grand Elder, this disciple picked the technique for my master.”

“Hmm?”

Hearing it isn’t for herself, the old man on the vinewood chair shows a flicker of surprise. The pressure on Nana’s shoulders withdraws completely. “Explain.”

With ten thousand-jun of pressure gone, Nana feels light and dizzy, nearly stumbling.

She gulps air greedily, swallows, and answers slowly. “I heard my Master, Shrine Water, is stuck at Nascent Soul stage five, unable to advance. By chance I learned the Azure Sea Tide Technique could aid her breakthrough, so I came to choose it.”

“Heh. Ignorant.”

The Grand Elder snorts, his gaze never leaving Nana. “Azure Sea Tide Technique is for early Qi Refining. It strengthens the body, eases meridians, stabilizes Foundation Establishment. What use does a Nascent Soul stage five have with it? Besides, Shrine Water is Cloudpeak Sect’s Second Elder. The Sect Master has piled secret treasures on her without number. You think a slim manual like Azure Sea Tide could let her break through? Nonsense. Childish tales.”

“This disciple wouldn’t dare.”

Nana bows her head, yet her face doesn’t lose its resolve. “But as a disciple, I can’t watch my master sink in her path like into a swamp. She labors day and night for me—it’s grace reborn. If there’s any chance for her to advance, I’ll try it.”

She says that, but her eyes closely track the old man’s reaction.

Rumor says Cloudpeak’s Grand Elder has guarded the Inner Pavilion for millennia.

Sect Masters and elders change; only he remains, from the Pavilion’s founding to now.

His strength is fathomless.

He’s a thousand-year old monster. Nana has no guarantee he’ll believe her.

If this won’t fly, she’ll just put the scroll back and choose anew.

A heroine’s plot armor isn’t snapped so easily.

“...”

They hold a silent standoff. In the end, the Grand Elder speaks first.

“You have heart. For Shrine Water to have a disciple like you is fortune.”

He leans back against the vinewood chair, lids dropping, a touch of weariness shading his voice. “I’m a bit tired today. You may go.”

Huh? You’re sending me off just like that?

Nana lifts her head, suspicious, at the Grand Elder seemingly asleep in his chair.

Who knows what tricks the old monster’s brewing.

“What? You have more to say?”

He cracks his eyes at her, displeased she’s still here.

“No… nothing.”

She bows again.

Only then does Nana withdraw, carrying the Azure Sea Tide Technique she took from the Inner Pavilion.

Stepping out, she spots a familiar figure approaching from afar.

Yiling Shen—the heroine herself.

Out from a month of seclusion, huh.

Nana’s lips curl with a meaningful smile. Seems that chase turned into a lucky encounter. She probably reached Foundation Establishment.

The heroine’s luck is ridiculous.

Her right hand flicks. The Azure Sea Tide Technique vanishes up Nana’s sleeve.

She flips her hand again and pulls out a sweet pear, biting as she walks.

“Hum ♪~ hum-hum ♫~~”

Their first meeting—actually second—and neither greets the other.

Just a brush of shoulders.

“...”

Right after they pass, Yiling Shen seems to sense something off. Her steps halt. Almost on reflex, she turns to look at Nana Toki, who just brushed by.

Her eyes carry a strange light.