The temple stood silent, as though holding its breath, after the fierce confrontation. The lingering tension in the air was thick, like a storm that had yet to fully pass. Shiao Zhen stood over his fallen cousin, Shiao Lin, his sword still held tightly in his hand, though the immediate danger had subsided. His breath came in shallow gasps, his heart racing not from the fight itself, but from the knowledge of what was at stake.
Behind him, Cheng Fusheng moved swiftly, his eyes scanning the temple's shadowed corners. "Shiao Zhen," Cheng's voice broke through the silence. "We can't waste any more time. The Bronze Dragon is still active. We need to act now before it's too late."
Shiao Zhen nodded, a deep weight pressing on his chest. He had never wanted to come to this moment—never wanted to face his cousin in this way. But the truth was undeniable. Shiao Lin had become consumed by the power, willing to risk everything, even the very balance of life and death itself, to claim it for his own.
"I know," Shiao Zhen said, his voice heavy. "Let's finish this."
Together, they moved toward the Bronze Dragon, the object of so much ambition, so much destruction. It sat on its pedestal, gleaming with an unnatural light. The intricate patterns etched into the surface of the dragon seemed to shimmer as if alive, the stone's texture shifting beneath their touch, almost as though it were breathing.
Shiao Zhen stepped forward, staring at the ancient artifact. The Bronze Dragon had once been a symbol of his family's power, a sacred relic that had been passed down for generations. It had been the source of their wealth, their influence, and their downfall. Now, it stood before him like a curse, a reminder of all the mistakes his family had made. But it was not too late. He still had the journal—the one that had led them here—and it held the answers they needed to destroy the dragon once and for all.
"Do you see it?" Cheng asked, his voice low as he pointed to the glowing symbols on the pedestal. They were the same symbols that had appeared in the journal, the ones that described the ritual Shiao Lin had tried to perform. "The markings are alive with power. If we don't destroy this thing now, there's no telling what it might do."
Shiao Zhen's eyes narrowed as he examined the markings. There was a rhythmic pattern to them, almost like a code waiting to be cracked. He remembered the words from the journal: To stop the ritual, the final seal must be broken. A willing sacrifice, a blood oath, and the severing of the dragon's link to the world of men.
"The sacrifice…" Shiao Zhen muttered, the words hanging heavily in the air. He had suspected this, but he had hoped it wasn't true. The ritual could only be undone with a willing sacrifice—a life to seal the Bronze Dragon away, forever.
Cheng Fusheng met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "I'll do it."
Shiao Zhen's heart froze, and he spun to face his companion. "No. You can't. There must be another way."
Cheng Fusheng's eyes softened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in his usually stoic demeanor. "Shiao Zhen, I have known this day would come. The blood of your ancestors runs through you, and it is your fate to end this curse. But I've fought by your side for so long—this is my choice. You've carried this burden long enough."
"But…" Shiao Zhen began, but Cheng raised a hand to stop him.
"No more words," Cheng said, his voice firm. "This is the way it must be. The Bronze Dragon must be sealed away for good. If we don't stop it now, the consequences will be unimaginable."
A silence fell between them. Shiao Zhen's heart ached, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He didn't want to lose Cheng—he couldn't. But the reality of their situation was undeniable. The Bronze Dragon was far too powerful to be left unchecked. If they didn't act now, everything they had fought for would be lost.
Shiao Zhen took a deep breath and nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand. If this is the only way… then we will do it together."
Together, they approached the Bronze Dragon. The glow from the artifact intensified as they neared it, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The temple's walls seemed to vibrate with energy, the air itself crackling as if alive.
Shiao Zhen reached out and touched the pedestal, feeling the heat radiating from the Bronze Dragon. The symbols etched into its surface seemed to pulse, as if responding to his touch. The power within the dragon was stirring, growing stronger, eager to be unleashed once again.
"Let's end this," Cheng said, his voice unwavering. He took a step forward, placing his hand beside Shiao Zhen's. Together, they pressed down on the pedestal, feeling the power swell beneath their palms. The ritual had already begun—the final seal was the only way to stop it.
The room seemed to darken as the symbols on the pedestal glowed brighter. The temperature dropped, and a cold wind swept through the temple, extinguishing the candlelight and casting them into darkness. Shiao Zhen's breath quickened as he felt the weight of the ritual pressing down on them, the ancient forces stirring.
"This is it," Shiao Zhen said. His voice was strained, but he steeled himself for what was to come. "We need to make the sacrifice now, Cheng. There's no turning back."
Cheng's hand tightened on the pedestal. His face was a mask of determination. "I am ready."
With a final breath, Shiao Zhen closed his eyes and recited the words from the journal. The chant was ancient, the language strange, but as he spoke, he felt the power of the Bronze Dragon responding, its grip tightening on the world around them. A cold, icy energy flowed through him as he invoked the final seal.
Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled. The Bronze Dragon seemed to howl, a low, guttural sound rising from deep within its stone body. The symbols on the pedestal swirled and shifted, and a blinding light enveloped the room, searing their vision.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything stopped.
The light faded. The wind ceased. The trembling of the ground subsided.
Shiao Zhen opened his eyes. The temple was silent once more. The Bronze Dragon sat motionless on its pedestal, no longer glowing with the unnatural light. The air, though still charged with ancient power, felt… contained. The ritual had been undone. The curse had been sealed.
But Cheng Fusheng was gone.
Shiao Zhen turned, his heart sinking. There, in the place where his friend had stood, there was only an empty space, marked by the faint traces of blood. Cheng had given himself willingly, his life the price to seal the Bronze Dragon away. The cost of victory had been more than Shiao Zhen could bear.
"No!" Shiao Zhen cried, falling to his knees beside the spot where Cheng had stood. But there was nothing—nothing left of his friend, no trace of his sacrifice.
Tears stung Shiao Zhen's eyes as the weight of what had just happened settled upon him. Cheng had chosen this fate. He had sacrificed himself to save the world, to ensure that the Bronze Dragon would never again wreak havoc. And now Shiao Zhen was left alone, the burden of his family's past and future resting squarely on his shoulders.
As he stood slowly, wiping away the tears that had blurred his vision, Shiao Zhen looked one last time at the Bronze Dragon. The curse had been broken, but at what cost?
The power of the Bronze Dragon was sealed. But the true price of that power would stay with him forever.
Shiao Zhen turned and walked away from the temple, carrying the weight of the past, the loss of his friend, and the uncertain future ahead. But one thing was clear: the story of the Shiao family was not over. It would continue, but now, it was up to him to ensure that its legacy would be one of redemption, not destruction.