The truth Wei Xianer spoke was a heavy burden. Azazel could feel the weight of his words pressing on him as they reverberated in his mind. The Iron Soul was not just a force of power—it was a weapon, a tool, and a curse all woven together. A power that had corrupted the very heart of the Phoenix Sect.
And yet, here Azazel stood, with the True Blade of the Iron Soul in his hand, bound by fate to confront an enemy that had lived in the shadows for centuries.
"We need to move quickly," Wei Xianer said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. His gaze never left Azazel's face, as though measuring him. "The elders know the moment the blade is wielded. They'll send their enforcers, their spies, anyone they can to hunt you down. But what's more concerning is the Zhen Xian, the true puppet master of this sect."
Azazel's eyes narrowed. "The Zhen Xian? I've never heard of them."
Wei Xianer's expression darkened. "Few have. The Zhen Xian is a secret within a secret. They are the hidden force controlling everything in the sect from behind the scenes. They do not appear in the records. They are not listed among the elders. Yet they are the ones who orchestrate the sect's true ambitions."
Azazel felt a chill run down his spine. A hidden force? A puppet master pulling the strings?
"But if they're not part of the elders," Azazel pressed, "then who are they?"
"We do not know their true identity," Wei Xianer admitted, "but I have my suspicions. I believe the Zhen Xian are the true origin of the Iron Soul's curse. They've twisted it, bent it to their will. They've manipulated the sect's teachings, turning what was once a tool of defense into a weapon of control. And now, they're preparing for something far worse than we've seen."
"How do we stop them?" Azazel asked, his voice firm with determination.
Wei Xianer's eyes hardened. "We expose them. The Zhen Xian hide behind layers of deception. They will not reveal themselves unless they have no other choice. But we can force their hand. We need to go to the Heart of the Phoenix—the ancient temple at the center of the sect. There, you'll find the remnants of the original texts, the teachings that the elders have suppressed for so long. Only there will you find the key to defeating them."
Azazel felt his pulse quicken. The Heart of the Phoenix—the very name sounded like a legend, something that had been lost to time. But if it held the answers they sought, it was the only place to go.
Xian Lin, who had been silent up until now, spoke up. "We can't do it alone. The sect is too vast, and the elders' power is too great. We'll need to gather those who still believe in the true purpose of the Phoenix Sect—those who have been left in the dark by the elders. There are a few scattered across the sect, hidden away from the prying eyes of the leadership."
Azazel nodded. "I understand. We need to unite the faithful. But how do we get to the Heart of the Phoenix without alerting the elders?"
Wei Xianer stepped forward, his face darkened with years of experience. "That's where you come in, Azazel. You are the key to everything now. The Iron Soul is connected to the Heart of the Phoenix. It is a part of you. That connection will allow you to enter places that would otherwise be inaccessible, to bypass the sect's protections and barriers. But be warned: the deeper you go, the more dangerous it becomes."
Azazel felt the weight of Wei Xianer's words. "What dangers are we talking about?"
"The temple is not just a building," Wei Xianer said. "It is alive, in a way. It will test you. The deeper you delve into its secrets, the more you will come to understand the nature of the Iron Soul. And the more you understand, the more you will be at risk of falling into the same darkness that claimed the elders."
Xian Lin's gaze was sharp. "But we have no choice. If we want to stop the Zhen Xian and reclaim the Phoenix Sect, we must face what lies in the Heart. We must take the risk."
Azazel's hand tightened on the hilt of the True Blade, the familiar warmth of the Iron Soul thrumming through him. He knew that there was no turning back. He had already made his choice.
"We do it," Azazel said firmly. "We go to the Heart of the Phoenix."
The journey to the Heart of the Phoenix was fraught with danger from the start. The sect's hidden paths were a labyrinth, winding through tunnels and hidden courtyards that even the most experienced disciples seemed to avoid. Xian Lin and Wei Xianer led Azazel through these secretive routes, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings, ever alert for spies or enemies lurking in the shadows.
As they neared the temple, a foreboding presence seemed to settle over them. The air grew heavy, the once quiet corridors now filled with an almost tangible pressure. It was as though the very walls were watching them, waiting for their next move.
"Be prepared for anything," Xian Lin warned as they approached the temple doors, massive and ornate, yet strangely unadorned. The doors were ancient, covered in a layer of dust that suggested no one had entered in years. And yet, there was an undeniable pull—an energy radiating from within that seemed to call to Azazel, urging him forward.
He stepped forward, his hand resting on the cold surface of the door. A wave of power surged through him, and the doors groaned, slowly creaking open. The moment they passed through, a feeling of dread washed over him.
The temple was vast, its interior stretching far beyond what he could have imagined. The walls were lined with stone statues, each one depicting a figure of great importance to the sect's history. But as he ventured further into the temple, Azazel's mind began to reel. It wasn't just the physical size of the place—it was something more profound.
The very essence of the Iron Soul pulsed in the air, alive and vibrant, but also corrupted. Azazel could feel it, could almost taste the lingering darkness that had infected the temple over the years. This was no longer a place of reverence. It had been twisted, reshaped into something unrecognizable.
"Stay close," Xian Lin whispered. "The Heart of the Phoenix is not a place of light. It will test you, Azazel. Trust in yourself, and trust in the blade."
Azazel nodded, his grip tightening on the True Blade. His heart pounded in his chest as they moved deeper into the temple, unsure of what they would find, but knowing that whatever it was, it would change everything.
And then, they reached the center of the temple.
A massive stone altar sat at the heart of the chamber, bathed in a strange, eerie light. And there, lying on the altar, was a single object. The source of all the power.
The Phoenix Flame.
It burned silently, its fiery essence contained within a crystal-like sphere, glowing with a strange radiance. But as Azazel approached it, a whisper echoed in his mind. A voice, faint but growing louder.
"You cannot take it. The Phoenix Flame belongs to us."
Azazel's heart froze. The voice was not of the elders. It was something older, more dangerous. The Zhen Xian.
And now, Azazel knew: they were not alone.