The journey back to Iron Ridge City was fraught with tension. The phoenix core pulsed in Li Wei's satchel, its heat a constant reminder of Vulcan's warning. Xiao Mei eyed the jade vial uneasily. "That thing feels like it's watching us," she muttered.
Mei Ling, who had grown quieter since the forge, suddenly halted. "This is where we part ways." She handed Li Wei a scroll sealed with obsidian wax. "Lord Kael's citadel lies to the north. If you survive… find me there."
"Why help us?" Xiao Mei demanded.
"Because I owe Zhao Tian a debt," Mei Ling said cryptically, vanishing into the mist before Li Wei could.
The city had changed. Black banners bearing the Obsidian Citadel's sigil—a serpent coiled around a mountain—hung from every gate. Merchants whispered of envoys who'd arrived days prior, demanding tribute in "fire and blood."
At the Broken Talon Inn, the innkeeper warned Li Wei: "They're searching for something. Or someone."
Li Wei's grip tightened on the phoenix sword. "Let them search."
The Obsidian envoys were impossible to miss. Clad in black scale armor, their faces hidden behind horned masks, they moved through the market like shadows. Their leader, a woman named Shira, carried a whip forged from molten steel.
"You," Shira pointed at Li Wei with a crack of her whip. "Your Qi smells… familiar. What are you hiding?"
Xiao Mei stepped forward, her voice dripping with false cheer. "He's hiding his terrible cooking skills. Trust me, you don't want his stew."
Shira's whip lashed out, but Li Wei caught it mid-air, his palm blistering. "Obsidian Citadel's Embersteel," he said calmly. "Durable, but brittle below freezing." He nodded to a nearby stall selling Frost Lotus petals—a common herb.
Xiao Mei tossed a handful of petals onto the whip. The metal hissed and snapped, shattering like glass.
Shira recoiled. "How did you—?"
"Trade secret," Li Wei said, already walking away.
That evening, Shira's envoys surrounded the inn. "You think parlor tricks will save you?" Shira snarled, her mask cracked to reveal scarred lips. "Lord Kael wants the phoenix core. Hand it over, or we'll burn this city to ash."
Li Wei glanced at Xiao Mei. "Remember the Seven Star Formation I taught you?"
She grinned. "The one you borrowed from some dead guy's diary? Yeah."
Together, they scattered Starfall Stones—charged with residual forge energy—around the inn's perimeter. When Shira's envoys charged, Li Wei ignited the formation. Chains of light erupted from the stones, binding the envoys in a searing lattice.
"This isn't cultivation!" Shira screamed, struggling against the bonds. "This is… sorcery!"
"No," Li Wei said, adjusting a stone with his foot. "It's geometry."
As the envoys retreated, Xiao Mei collapsed, her eyes glowing with an eerie blue light. Visions flooded her mind:
A young Zhao Tian sealing the phoenix sword at the forge.
Lord Kael laughing as flames consumed a village.
Herself, standing atop a mountain of runes, a crown of light on her brow.
When she awoke, Li Wei was wiping her brow with a damp cloth. "You muttered something about 'kings and ash.' Care to explain?"
Xiao Mei shoved him away. "You first. Who the hell is Zhao Tian to you?"
Li Wei's smile didn't reach his eyes. "A cautionary tale."
At dawn, a raven arrived, its talons clutching a scroll sealed with obsidian. The message was brief:
"Bring the core to the Obsidian Citadel. Or watch your clan burn."
Attached was a lock of silver hair—Lan Yi's, Li Wei's childhood friend from the Fallen Leaf Clan.
The Obsidian Citadel had declared war. Li Wei's secrets teetered on the edge of exposure, Xiao Mei's visions hinted at a destiny neither could escape, and the phoenix core's whispers grew louder: "Burn them all."