The capital city of Riley State, Great Wave Continent, pulsed with anticipation. Cultivators from across continents had arrived, drawn by the imminent opening of the Scorch Realm—a sub-realm said to not only be beneficial to flame-based cultivators but also to house a powerful fire artifact capable of enhancing flame physique or techniques and, with luck, elevating one's cultivation realm by two levels.
Within a private residence nestled behind flame-sealed barriers, Rana Flare stood in quiet reflection. Her long white hair cascaded down her back like threads of moonlight, a striking contrast to the solar silk robe she wore—its fire glyphs glowing faintly with her internal qi. Her posture was poised, her expression calm, and her aura unmistakably refined. She had grown—not just in power, but in presence.
As the star disciple of the Great Solar Clan from the Great Ling Continent, Rana had become a name whispered with reverence. At only eighteen, she had reached the Peak Moon Realm and was already chosen to lead her sect in the future. Her arrival in Riley was no casual visit; she was here under the protection of her master, Talia, an Early Sage Realm expert, to enter the Scorch Realm not only to gain experience but also to seek the legendary fire artifact rumored to lie within that many desired.
Outside the residence, crowds had gathered—cultivators from neighboring states and distant continents, all hoping for a glimpse of the famed flame princess. Some had traveled from the Rale Continent, others from the Southern Reach. They didn't seek conversation. They didn't dare approach. Just one glance, they whispered, and they could die content.
But none got close.
Master Talia's aura blanketed the estate like a storm held in check. An Early Sage Realm expert, her presence alone made even seasoned elders think twice. Her energy was calm but absolute. No one crossed her perimeter—not without permission. And certainly not with impure intent.
Except, of course, for the Crimson Vale Sect.
Under the guise of diplomacy, they arrived with polite smiles and veiled ambition. Their delegation included Elder George Vale, a Sage Realm cultivator with a reputation for subtle manipulation, and three disciple moon realm experts—each hundreds of years old, but still considered young in this part of the cultivation world. Their robes bore the crimson sigil of their sect, and their eyes scanned the estate with quiet hunger.
They were here for one reason.
Rana.
Master Talia greeted them in the central hall, her expression composed. She didn't want to entertain them. But the Crimson Vale Sect was one of the strongest in the region, and she couldn't afford to offend them—not this far from home.
"Elder George," she said with a respectful nod. "Welcome to our residence."
George returned the gesture, his smile thin. "Master Talia. It's an honor. We've heard much of your disciple. Lady Rana's reputation has reached even the Rale Continent.
Speaking of Lady Rana, where is she? This old master would love to meet such a prodigy."
Talia's smile didn't waver. "She's upstairs, cultivating. I hope you don't think she's being rude by not greeting you personally."
"Of course not," George replied smoothly. "Lady Rana is the pride of your Solar Clan. A Peak Moon Realm expert at eighteen… a genius among geniuses. We understand the importance of preparation—especially with the Scorch Realm opening in three days."
They exchanged pleasantries for a few more minutes—talk of politics and the logistics of the upcoming hunt. But Talia's patience wore thin. She dismissed them politely, her tone firm but courteous.
The Crimson Vale disciples left disappointed. They hadn't seen Rana. But they knew better than to press further.
George lingered a moment longer, his gaze sweeping the upper balcony. Then he bowed once more and departed.
Only after the gates sealed behind them did Rana descend the staircase.
Her steps were light but purposeful. She entered the hall with quiet grace, her aura subdued but unmistakable.
Rana bowed respectfully. "Thank you for handling those leachers, master."
"My pleasure," Talia smiled. She then studied her for a moment before asking, "Now I hope you were actually up there cultivating and not pining over that boy again?"
"What, boy?" Rana kept a straight face, but her heart raced as his face and name popped up in her brain.
Jalen.
She hadn't seen him in nearly three years. And instead of distance dulling her feelings, it had only deepened them. There wasn't a day she didn't think of him—not to the point of distraction, but enough to admit, quietly, that she loved him.
She had never said it aloud. Not to him. Not to anyone. But in the silence of her cultivation, in the stillness between breakthroughs, his memory lingered like a flame that refused to die.
She could still remember the warmth of his hand against hers the last time he guided her during cultivation. It had been so long—but the memory lingered, etched into her heart like a brand.
"You're thinking about him right now, aren't you?" Talia's voice cut through the silence, calm but knowing.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Rana shrugged, her tone casual, but her qi flickered—just slightly.
Talia raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Your qi flared just now when I mentioned him. You may be able to hide your thoughts, Rana, but not your energy."
Rana exhaled slowly, centering herself. "It's just lingering qi after cultivation. That's all."
"You stubborn girl." Talia sighed, though her voice remained gentle. "You still insist on keeping your lover a secret from your master. Very well."
Rana didn't respond. She didn't need to. The silence between them said enough.
Then the two shifted into a different rhythm—one of discipline and preparation. Master Talia's tone grew sharper, her words deliberate and layered with experience. For nearly an hour, she walked Rana through the intricacies of flame control, realm navigation, and the dangers that lurked beneath the Scorch Realm's surface.
With that, she turned and left, her robes trailing flame-light as she disappeared down the corridor.
Rana remained in the hall, alone now, the silence pressing in like heat before ignition. She closed her eyes, centered her breath, and began to cultivate—her thoughts steady, her heart quiet, her flame ready to rise.
Three days. That was all she had.
And she would be ready.