Dragon fire
1092 Words
The energy that exploded from Xin's hands was not blue like the constructs. It was gold—brilliant, searing gold that roared like a living thing. Dragon fire, raw and untamed.
The wolf construct disintegrated mid-leap, its form unable to withstand the blast. The golden flames continued past it, scorching the arena walls and leaving glowing marks on the stone.
Then the fire consumed Xin himself.
He screamed as the energy tore through his body. It felt like his blood had turned to molten metal, his bones to fire. The dragon mark on his forehead burned so intensely he thought his skull would c***k open. Every nerve ending lit up with agony.
But underneath the pain, something else was happening. His spiritual channels—the crude, unstable pathways that had barely functioned before—were being forcibly refined. The dragon fire scoured through them like a raging river carving through rock, widening them, strengthening them, transforming them.
This is what Master Zhou warned about, Xin thought dimly through the haze of pain. The dragon blood. It does not wait. It forces you to evolve or die.
He had a choice: let the fire destroy him, or learn to control it.
Xin chose to live.
He remembered Longwei's words from the dream: *Qi responds to will, not force.* He stopped fighting the energy and instead tried to guide it, channeling it through his body the way Master Zhou had attempted to teach him. It was like trying to direct a waterfall with his bare hands, but slowly, agonizingly, he began to succeed.
The fire became less chaotic. It flowed through his refined channels in a circuit—down from his head, through his chest, into his arms and legs, then back up again. The pain diminished from unbearable to merely excruciating.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the fire finally subsided.
Xin collapsed onto the arena floor, every muscle trembling. But he felt different. Stronger. The qi in his body moved smoothly now, no longer the erratic trickle from before but a steady stream. His senses felt sharper—he could hear his own heartbeat, feel the air currents in the chamber, sense the spiritual energy that permeated the tomb.
*"Second opponent defeated,"* the voice announced. *"Anomaly detected. Candidate has advanced to First Gate: Refinement during combat. Impressive. Preparing final opponent."*
"No," Xin croaked. "No more. I am done. I need—"
The blue mist ignored his protests, condensing into the final form. This time, it was not a construct or an animal. It was a perfect replica of Princess Mei, down to the last detail—her sharp eyes, her warrior's braid, even the way she held her sword.
The replica bowed mockingly. "Let us see if you learned anything, stable boy."
Even the voice was perfect.
She attacked with all of Princess Mei's skill and none of her restraint. Xin barely got his sword up in time. The clash of blades sent vibrations up his arm. She flowed through a complex attack pattern—feints, strikes, footwork—that would have destroyed him yesterday.
But he was not the same person as yesterday.
His newly refined channels allowed him to move faster, react quicker. The dragon blood's combat instincts whispered warnings in his mind. He blocked a strike aimed at his throat. Dodged a s***h targeting his legs. Even managed a counterattack that the replica had to parry.
"Better," the fake Princess Mei said. "But still not good enough."
She increased her speed. Xin struggled to keep up, his sword becoming a blur as he blocked, parried, and dodged. Sweat dripped into his eyes. His refined channels meant he had more qi to draw on, but he was still exhausted from the previous fights.
The replica saw his fatigue and exploited it ruthlessly. She feinted high, struck low, and her blade sliced across Xin's thigh. He gasped, stumbling backward. Blood flowed hot down his leg.
"You cannot win through skill alone," the replica said, advancing. "You are too new, too untrained. So what will you do?"
What would he do?
Xin's mind raced. She was right—he could not beat her in a straight sword fight. She had years of training that he lacked. But he had something she did not have.
Dragon blood.
Xin remembered the golden fire, the raw power that had destroyed the wolf construct. He had poured everything into that blast without control, nearly killing himself in the process. But now his channels were refined. Now he had better control.
Maybe he could use it without self-destructing.
The replica attacked again. This time, instead of blocking normally, Xin channeled qi into his blade as he parried. Golden light flickered along the steel. The impact sent the replica skidding backward, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Now that is interesting," she said.
Xin pressed forward, attacking with a combination of Princess Mei's teaching and Longwei's inherited techniques. Each strike was infused with qi, making his blade faster and heavier. The replica blocked them all, but she was being pushed back now, forced on the defensive.
They fought across the arena—blade against blade, skill against instinct, training against raw potential. Xin took hits, his body accumulating cuts and bruises, but he kept pushing. Kept learning. Every exchange taught him something new about swordplay, about combat, about himself.
Finally, he saw his opening.
The replica overextended on a lunge, her weight shifted too far forward. Xin sidestepped, channeled qi into his legs for extra speed, and brought his sword down in an overhead strike aimed at her sword arm.
The blade connected. The replica's sword went flying. Xin followed through, pressing his blade against her throat.
They froze, both breathing hard.
The replica smiled—a real smile, warmer than any expression the actual Princess Mei had shown him. "Well done, Dragon Heir. You pass."
She dissolved into blue mist, but unlike the others, this mist swirled upward and condensed into a small object that fell into Xin's hand. A dragon scale, perfectly preserved, glowing with soft golden light.
*"Trial of Body complete,"* the voice announced. *"Congratulations. You have proven your combat potential and advanced to First Gate: Refinement. The dragon scale contains a combat technique: Dragon's First Breath. Absorb it to learn."*
Xin clutched the scale, his legs finally giving out. He sat down hard on the blood-stained floor, utterly exhausted but alive.
One trial down. Two to go.
And he still had to make it out before the six hours expired.
- Writer
