Author: with every Warning comes bold letters
Liang Feng's steps faltered as he crossed the threshold of the gate. The air here was dense and stifling, as though the mountain itself exhaled a warning with every breath he took. His cursed flame flared to life once more, illuminating the interior of the trial site. What lay before him was both a monument to ancient grandeur and a harrowing reminder of the cost of ambition.
The cavernous entry stretched ahead, its walls lined with carvings depicting phoenixes in every stage of their fiery ascension—from hatchlings emerging from nests of flame to regal creatures soaring amidst swirling clouds. The carvings shimmered faintly, their intricate details catching the light of the cursed flame as if imbued with a life of their own. But the beauty of the scene was undercut by the evidence of violence and decay that littered the floor.
Bones, charred and broken, were scattered across the ground. Some were small, humanoid remains that spoke of past cultivators who had dared to enter this place. Others were larger, their jagged edges and unnatural shapes hinting at the remains of creatures born of flame and shadow. Liang's gaze lingered on a ribcage the size of a cart, its blackened surface warped by some intense heat.
Warnings were etched into the stone at irregular intervals, their sharp, angular characters glowing faintly as if scorched into the rock itself. Though the language was ancient, the meaning was clear: Turn back. No flame is worth this price. Another warning read: The fire consumes all—do not seek its embrace. Liang's stomach tightened, but he pressed on, his steps careful and deliberate to avoid disturbing the brittle remains underfoot.
He paused at one particularly large inscription, curiosity overcoming caution. Reaching out, his fingertips brushed the scorched stone. Instantly, a vision overwhelmed him—screams echoed in his ears, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of burning flesh. He saw flashes of cultivators battling desperately, their flames colliding in violent bursts that lit the cavern in blinding light. Blood sprayed across the stone, and the anguished cries of those consumed by their own power rang out, their forms dissolving into ash. The vision ended as abruptly as it began, leaving Liang gasping and unsteady. He staggered back, clutching his head as the cursed flame flared violently in response.
"It's not worth it! Run while you still can!" a voice had cried in the vision, its desperate tone haunting him even now.
The deeper he ventured, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. A faint hum vibrated through the air, barely audible yet impossible to ignore. It resonated in his chest, a dissonant counterpoint to the steady pulse of his cursed flame. Faint traces of cultivation energy lingered in the air, the remnants of techniques long forgotten. They clung to the walls and floor like the afterimage of a battle fought ages ago.
Liang's flame illuminated a section of the wall where a jagged gouge marred the carvings. The damage radiated outward in uneven cracks, as if some immense force had struck with enough power to disrupt the very foundation of the trial site. His fingers brushed the surface, and a faint surge of heat coursed through him, a fragment of the energy that had caused the destruction. He pulled his hand back, his heart pounding.
As he rounded a corner, the path opened into a vast chamber. The floor was uneven, fractured into sections as though by seismic activity, and pools of molten rock glimmered faintly in the cursed flame's light. The scent of sulfur hung heavy in the air, sharp and acrid. Pillars, carved in the shape of entwined phoenixes, rose to support the arched ceiling. Many had crumbled, their fragments lying in heaps that further obstructed the treacherous path.
The chamber was a battlefield frozen in time. Bloodstains, now dried to a dark brown, streaked across the cracked floor, and skeletal remains bore the unmistakable marks of desperation—shattered blades still clenched in skeletal hands, shields melted down to warped fragments. Some skeletons had been crushed entirely, their remains fused with the molten rock that bubbled ominously in pools throughout the chamber. Liang's cursed flame dimmed momentarily, as if recoiling from the lingering energy of so much death.
Near the center of the chamber, a pedestal rose from the fractured ground, its surface inscribed with runes similar to those on the gate. At its base lay the remains of a cultivator, their robes reduced to ash and their skeletal hand outstretched as if they had fallen reaching for the platform. Whatever artifact or treasure had once rested there was long gone, but the faint scorch marks surrounding the pedestal hinted at the power it had once held.
Liang stepped closer, his every movement accompanied by the faint crunch of brittle bone underfoot. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, though the chamber appeared empty. The cursed flame in his palm burned hotter as he approached the pedestal, reacting to the residual energy that lingered in the space. The runes on the stone flickered faintly, as though trying to awaken.
Before Liang could reach out, a sharp gust of wind swept through the chamber, carrying with it the acrid stench of sulfur and something darker. The cursed flame flickered wildly, its light casting jagged shadows on the walls. The hum in the air grew louder, a discordant rhythm that set his teeth on edge. For a moment, it felt as if the trial site itself was alive, its ancient power stirring in response to his presence.
Liang's gaze swept the chamber, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade. The bones, the warnings, the residual energy—all of it painted a picture of trials that had claimed countless lives. Yet, amidst the fear, a spark of determination burned within him. The answers he sought were here, buried beneath layers of danger and despair. And he would not leave without them.
Taking a steadying breath, Liang turned his attention back to the pedestal. The cursed flame pulsed faintly in his palm, a rhythm that echoed in time with his own heartbeat. Just as he was about to reach out, a flicker of blue light pierced through the chamber's oppressive darkness. It shimmered faintly from the far end of the chamber, barely visible but unmistakably there.
Liang froze, his eyes narrowing as the cursed flame in his palm flared in response. The blue light pulsed, almost in harmony with his flame, as though calling to it. It seemed to emanate from deep within the trial site, beyond the fractured ground and the pools of molten rock. A whisper, faint and unintelligible, brushed against his mind, compelling him to step closer.
The trial was just beginning, and now, something far greater had captured his attention.