Author: I don't make good decisions
__________________________________________
Liang Feng stood at the edge of the forest, the towering trees casting long shadows over the narrow path ahead. The dawn's first light painted the horizon in hues of orange and gold, but its warmth did little to ease the chill that crept over him. He tightened his grip on the satchel slung across his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the path winding into the unknown.
The Celestial Radiance Sect was behind him now, its grand spires no longer visible through the dense canopy of trees. He had left quietly, slipping past the outer walls while the world still slept. No one had noticed his absence yet, but it wouldn't be long before someone did. Wei Han or another rival would likely seize the opportunity to spread rumors about his "cowardly" disappearance. Liang could already hear their sneers in his mind.
Let them talk, he thought bitterly. They didn't matter anymore.
The cursed flame flickered faintly in his palm, and he clenched his fist, willing it into submission. It had been unusually quiet since he left the sect, as though it, too, was aware of the gravity of his decision. Liang wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The Flame Ridge Mountains were at least two days away, and the journey wouldn't be easy. The maps he had studied in the sect's library had offered little in the way of specifics—just a few crude landmarks and vague warnings about the dangers that lay ahead. But the uncertainty didn't deter him. If anything, it fueled his determination.
For years, he had been trapped—by the sect's expectations, by the ridicule of his peers, and by the cursed flame slowly consuming him. Now, for the first time, he felt a sense of freedom. The trial site might kill him, but at least he was choosing his path.
Liang adjusted the strap of his satchel and stepped onto the path, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots the only sound in the stillness of the forest. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. It was a stark contrast to the sterile, orderly atmosphere of the sect, and Liang found himself breathing a little easier.
As he walked, his mind wandered back to the scroll he had taken from the library. The Phoenix Clan had been the stuff of legends—powerful, majestic, and nearly divine in their mastery of flame. The idea that their techniques could still exist, hidden in some forgotten trial site, had seemed absurd at first. But the cursed flame in his palm had reacted to the scroll's mark, a faint but unmistakable resonance. It was as if the flame itself recognized the phoenix's power, calling him toward it.
Liang shook his head, pushing the thought aside. He couldn't afford to get lost in speculation. There were more immediate concerns to deal with—food, water, shelter. The forest was vast and unfamiliar, and though he had packed enough supplies for the journey, he knew they wouldn't last if something went wrong.
The day passed slowly, the sun climbing higher into the sky as Liang followed the path. The forest grew denser the farther he went, the trees towering above him like silent sentinels. The occasional rustle of leaves or distant cry of a bird broke the monotony, but Liang remained vigilant. The Flame Ridge Mountains were home to more than just demon beasts; rumors spoke of bandits and rogue cultivators who preyed on travelers foolish enough to venture into their territory.
By midday, Liang paused to rest by a small stream, the cool water a welcome relief from the growing heat. He knelt by the edge, cupping his hands to drink, and stared at his reflection in the water. The face that stared back at him was pale and tired, his dark hair disheveled from the journey. But his eyes—once filled with doubt and despair—now burned with quiet determination.
"I won't fail," he murmured, the words barely audible over the sound of the stream. "Not this time."
The cursed flame flickered faintly in response, its glow barely visible in the daylight. Liang frowned, unsure whether it was mocking him or agreeing with him. Either way, he didn't have time to dwell on it.
By the time the sun began to set, the forest had taken on an eerie quality. The fading light cast long shadows across the path, and the once-soothing rustle of leaves now seemed ominous. Liang quickened his pace, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the blade at his side.
He had just reached a small clearing when he heard it—a low, guttural growl that sent a chill down his spine. Liang froze, his heart pounding as he scanned the trees. The growl came again, closer this time, and he caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows.
A demon beast.
It emerged from the trees with a snarl, its massive form blocking the path. The creature resembled a wolf, but its glowing red eyes and jagged fangs marked it as something far more dangerous. Its fur bristled as it stared at Liang, its muscles coiled to strike.
Liang's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, his mind racing. He wasn't ready for this—not yet. The cursed flame flared in his palm, its light casting a faint glow across the clearing. The beast's eyes narrowed at the sight of it, and it let out a furious roar.
There was no time to think. The beast lunged, its claws tearing through the air, and Liang barely managed to dodge. He rolled to the side, drawing his blade in one fluid motion, and slashed at the beast's flank. The blade struck true, drawing a line of blood, but the wound only seemed to enrage the creature.
The battle was short but brutal. Liang's movements were swift, his strikes precise, but the cursed flame burned erratically, throwing him off balance. The beast's claws raked across his arm, tearing through his sleeve and leaving a trail of searing pain.
In the end, it was the flame that saved him. As the beast lunged for a final strike, Liang let the cursed flame surge to life, its crimson glow blinding in the twilight. The beast recoiled, its howl of pain echoing through the forest, and Liang seized the opportunity to strike.
When it was over, Liang stood panting in the clearing, his blade slick with blood. The beast lay motionless at his feet, its massive form casting a shadow across the path.
Liang stared at the cursed flame in his palm, its light flickering weakly. For the first time, he felt a grudging sense of gratitude toward it. Without the flame, he wouldn't have survived. But the cost was clear—the erratic bursts of power had left him drained, his body trembling from the effort.
He turned away from the beast and continued down the path, his steps slower but no less determined. The trial site was still far, and the dangers were only beginning. But Liang Feng pressed on, his resolve unshaken.
The Phoenix's secrets waited for him, buried in the mountains. And he would claim them—or die trying.