The moment Azazel's hand brushed the surface of the Phoenix Flame, the temperature in the chamber skyrocketed. His skin tingled as the intense heat radiated from the crystal sphere. The flame inside the crystal pulsed rhythmically, as though it had a heartbeat of its own. But despite the blinding light, Azazel's gaze never wavered. The voice in his mind—the one warning him away—had only strengthened the pull to the flame.
"You cannot take it. The Phoenix Flame belongs to us."
The voice, distant and yet as clear as his own thoughts, echoed again. It was not the voice of a single individual, but a chorus of many, ancient and powerful, each word filled with menace. Azazel's heart thudded in his chest. He could feel the weight of its significance—the flame was not just a symbol of the Phoenix Sect, but the very source of its power, the very essence that had sustained it for centuries.
And now, as the iron grip of the voice wrapped tighter around his thoughts, he realized something far more sinister: this was no ordinary power. It was the heart of the Zhen Xian, the very thing that had corrupted the sect and twisted the Iron Soul into an instrument of control.
Xian Lin stepped forward, his face pale with a mix of awe and fear. "The Phoenix Flame," he whispered. "It's... it's not just a source of power. It's the vessel of the Zhen Xian. The flame is what binds them to this world."
Azazel's mind raced. The Zhen Xian were not just a faction hiding behind the elders. They were the very embodiment of the sect's curse. They had intertwined their essence with the Phoenix Flame, using its power to maintain control over the sect's true history and its destiny.
"You're right," Azazel said, his voice steady, though his heart was pounding. "This flame... it's not meant to be controlled. It's meant to control everything."
Wei Xianer, who had been standing at the entrance of the chamber, watching intently, stepped forward as well. His expression was grim. "The Phoenix Flame is the key to the Iron Soul's true power. But it is also the catalyst for corruption. The Zhen Xian have used it to anchor themselves to this realm, to gain control over every generation of the Phoenix Sect's leaders. They've turned the sect into their puppet, and its power has kept them alive, feeding off the flame."
Azazel's grip on the True Blade tightened as a surge of power coursed through him, the warmth of the Iron Soul intensifying. He could feel the connection between himself and the Phoenix Flame deepening, its pulse like a beckoning call to something vast and primal. For a fleeting moment, he was filled with the overwhelming urge to seize that power. The allure of the flame was intoxicating. But something inside him—his soul, the very essence of the Iron Soul that now bound his fate to the flame—held him back.
I can't let them have it. Not like this.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts. "We have to destroy it," he said, his voice firm, filled with resolve. "We can't let the Zhen Xian continue to use it to control the sect. This flame is the source of their power—and ours, if we're not careful."
Wei Xianer nodded, his face dark with understanding. "The flame cannot be destroyed by ordinary means. Its power is ancient, woven into the very fabric of this world. But there is a way. The True Blade of the Iron Soul... it can sever the connection between the Zhen Xian and the flame."
Azazel looked down at the blade in his hand. The true weight of its significance hit him then. The blade was not just a weapon. It was a key—a key to undoing the centuries of corruption that had ravaged the sect. The Iron Soul had always been a double-edged sword, its power both a blessing and a curse. But in Azazel's hands, it could be the salvation the world desperately needed.
"We have to sever the flame's link to the Zhen Xian," Azazel said, determination flashing in his eyes. "It's the only way to stop them from controlling the Phoenix Sect."
Xian Lin's expression tightened. "But if you sever the link, you may destroy the flame in the process. We could lose everything that the sect has built."
Azazel hesitated for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing on him. He could feel the stirrings of the flame in the air, its heat growing as the Zhen Xian's presence seemed to intensify. But then, his resolve hardened. The sect had already been lost. The power of the Phoenix Flame had already twisted everything it touched, turning allies into enemies and friends into puppets. There was no choice now.
"Better to lose the flame than to let it continue to feed the darkness that has consumed this place," Azazel replied.
With that, he stepped forward, his gaze locked on the Phoenix Flame. The True Blade hummed in his hand, resonating with the flame's power. As he approached, the flame flared, sending a shockwave through the room, pushing back against him. The voice of the Zhen Xian grew louder, more desperate.
"You cannot destroy what you cannot control. We are eternal. The Phoenix Flame is ours!"
But Azazel ignored it. He could feel the connection between the True Blade and the flame, the way the energies intertwined, like two forces locked in a battle of wills. His grip tightened on the blade, and with a single, decisive strike, he brought it down.
The world seemed to shudder.
The Phoenix Flame screamed, its fiery core twisting violently. The light intensified, blinding in its intensity, and for a moment, Azazel thought he might be consumed by it. But the True Blade held true, its essence a perfect match for the flame's chaotic energy.
The blade sank deep into the crystal sphere, and with a deafening crack, the Phoenix Flame shattered.
The resulting explosion of energy sent Azazel and the others flying back, the force nearly overwhelming. But as the smoke cleared and the light dimmed, Azazel rose to his feet, the weight of what had just transpired settling over him.
The Phoenix Flame was gone. And with it, the control of the Zhen Xian over the Phoenix Sect.
But the price had been high.
The air around them was thick with the remnants of the flame's power, and the chamber now felt colder, as though something essential had been taken from the world. Azazel looked down at the True Blade in his hand, now darkened and pulsing with an unfamiliar energy.
Xian Lin slowly stood beside him, his face grim. "The flame is destroyed. But we've just unleashed something far worse. The Zhen Xian will not let this go."
Azazel felt a new force stirring within him. The destruction of the Phoenix Flame had shifted something in the world—a balance had been broken. And with that shift, the true battle had begun.
"They won't stop," Azazel said quietly. "But neither will I. We've only just begun."
And as the echoes of the shattered Phoenix Flame rang through the temple, Azazel knew that the true war for the soul of the Phoenix Sect was only beginning. The Zhen Xian were not done. And neither was he.