The Ice Phoenix spirit floated above the frozen altar like a living moon made of frost-fire. Its eyes were old. Not old like an elder. Old like a law that had watched kingdoms rise and fall.
The cold in the chamber thickened until it felt like a weight pressing on Shan Wei's shoulders. Frost light crawled up his arm from the altar, not cutting skin, but pulling at his time, trying to take years from his life as payment.
Shan Wei did not move back.
His face stayed calm, his golden eyes steady. He tightened the prismatic ring over his chest and locked his breath into a slow, even rhythm. He treated the pressure like an enemy formation: something to read, something to control.
The phoenix spoke again, voice sharp and clean.
"Return what you stole," it said. "Your life is the price."
Shan Wei's voice was quiet.
"I stole nothing," he said.
The phoenix's wings flared slightly. The frost light surged harder, and the frozen statues in the first hall creaked as if they remembered pain.
"The world does not care who began the theft," the phoenix said. "It only cares who carries the nail."
Shan Wei's fingers tightened on the altar edge.
"The nail is not mine," he said. "But the burden is touching my people."
The phoenix stared at him for a long breath. Then it spoke a single question, simple but heavy.
"Do you want to free the frost node?"
Shan Wei answered at once.
"Yes."
"Do you want to free the consort thread?"
"Yes."
"Without breaking her?"
"Yes."
The phoenix's eyes narrowed.
"Then pay," it said.
Shan Wei did not argue like a child. He did not shout. He did not beg. He did what he always did.
He thought.
His gaze slid to the crystal sphere above the altar. Inside it, the thread shard trembled like it was trying to scream through ice.
That shard was not just a piece of Ling Xueyao's thread.
It was a tool they used to build the Moon Lock.
If he pulled it out the wrong way, the lock would lash back and crush Xuan Chi's mind. If he left it, the Monastery would keep trying to crown her as the Moon-Masked Girl.
Shan Wei's mind moved like a blade.
The phoenix wanted a life because the Monastery had stolen life.
A node is a living lock. A living lock needs living fuel.
If he could replace the fuel… with something else…
He lifted his free hand and drew a small prismatic square in the air. Simple lines. Four corners. A basic "swap" array, the kind used to replace damaged cores in puppets.
The phoenix's eyes sharpened.
"You think like a forger," it said.
"I am one," Shan Wei replied.
He pointed the prismatic square at the frost light climbing his arm.
"Your tomb demands life," he said. "But the lock steals life in a different shape. Not blood. Not breath. It steals threads."
The phoenix's voice stayed cold.
"Words," it said.
Shan Wei's eyes did not blink.
"Then I will offer a thread," he said.
The frost light paused for half a heartbeat, as if the tomb itself listened.
The phoenix's eyes narrowed.
"You do not have a spare life."
Shan Wei answered calmly.
"I do," he said. "But not the one you think."
He touched the prismatic ring on his chest. The sealed Heart beneath it throbbed once, heavy and angry, like it hated being mentioned.
Shan Wei spoke in a low voice.
"The Monastery pinned consort threads across cycles," he said. "They made a lock out of love. They used frost to hold it. They used a node to stabilize it."
He looked at the phoenix.
"I will bind my own fate to repay the Ice Phoenix Clan," he said. "Not with my death. With my future."
The phoenix's eyes sharpened.
"Explain."
Shan Wei's voice stayed steady, simple, and clear.
"I will take the nail's load into myself for a short time," he said. "I will carry it so the node can breathe. Then I will replace the stolen thread shard with a new anchor."
The phoenix's wings flared.
"A new anchor," it repeated.
Shan Wei nodded once.
"A vow," he said. "A Phoenix Oath. A living formation vow that burns in my soul. If I break it, it burns me."
The phoenix watched him closely. For the first time, the spirit looked less like a judge and more like a warrior measuring another warrior.
"And what will your oath give my clan?" the phoenix asked.
Shan Wei's answer came like iron.
"I will return your stolen prophecy record," he said. "I will burn the nails forged in your tomb. And when the Monastery comes again… I will cut their bell order with prismatic law."
The frost light on Shan Wei's arm trembled.
The tomb did not accept it yet. But it did not reject it either.
Then the phoenix leaned closer, and its voice lowered.
"You speak like an emperor," it said. "But emperors still bleed."
Shan Wei's eyes stayed calm.
"Then let me bleed for something real," he said.
The phoenix held its gaze on him.
Finally, it moved its wing like a key turning in a lock.
The frozen altar cracked again, deeper this time. Not breaking apart—opening like a sealed chest.
A hollow space appeared inside the altar.
And from that hollow space, a thin black-gold object began to rise.
It was not fully visible yet. But Shan Wei felt it.
He felt the shape of it in the air.
A nail core.
Not a normal nail.
A source.
The phoenix spoke one line, and the words made the chamber colder.
"This is what the Monastery stole from us," it said. "The thing they used to learn how to pin threads."
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed.
"What is it?"
The phoenix's gaze sharpened.
"A Fate Nail Core," it said. "A seed of binding law."
Shan Wei's chest tightened slightly.
A core like that could be used to lock bonds…
Or unlock them.
But it would never be free.
Everything like this demanded a price.
Outside the tomb, the Judge voice spoke again through the air, cold and distant.
"Vote count: three."
The verdict stamp above Shan Wei's head pulsed harder.
VERDICT: PENDING.
The pressure was getting heavier.
The Court was close to deciding.
Shan Wei did not look up. He already understood what the Court wanted.
He stayed focused on the altar.
Because the only way to survive a judgment like this was to turn it into something the Court could not control.
Far away, inside the moving Refuge Tunnel lane, Xuan Chi's breath broke into short gasps.
The Moon Crown shadow returned above her head like a pale hook. It was trying to settle again, trying to name her, trying to make her obedient.
Her half-moon domain shook behind her. Frost scars spread across the road like cracked glass.
"I can't—" Xuan Chi whispered.
Yuerin grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look straight into her eyes.
"Listen," Yuerin said, voice sharp. "The lock wants you to forget yourself."
Xuan Chi's lips trembled.
Yuerin spoke slowly, like she was teaching someone how to survive.
"Say your name," she ordered. "Say it like a blade."
Xuan Chi swallowed.
"Xuan Chi," she whispered.
The crown shadow tightened.
Yuerin's voice turned colder.
"Again," she said. "Louder."
Xuan Chi forced air into her lungs, and this time she spoke with more strength.
"Xuan Chi!"
The crown shadow flickered.
But it did not vanish.
It tried again.
A cold whisper slid into Xuan Chi's mind, like someone speaking from behind a mask.
Moon-Masked Girl.
Xuan Chi shuddered.
Yuerin's eyes flashed.
"Say what you are," Yuerin snapped. "Not what they want."
Xuan Chi's voice shook.
"I… I am not a mask," she said.
The crown shadow trembled.
Yuerin leaned closer.
"You are a person," Yuerin said. "Say it."
Xuan Chi clenched her fists.
"I am a person," she said, voice stronger now.
The crown shadow flickered again, weaker.
Zhen moved beside them, his steps heavy and calm. He shifted a shield gate to block the sky pressure, placing a moving wall between Xuan Chi and the forming Court stamps above.
His voice came as blunt as iron.
"IDENTITY STABILIZATION: IMPROVING."
Yuerin shot him a look.
"Good," she said. "Keep it improving."
Zhen nodded once, like a machine agreeing.
"CONFIRMED."
A group of assassins tried to break out of the maze corridor behind them.
Zhen turned his head slightly, and his eyes glowed with formation light.
"SHIELD GATES: CRUSH."
The corridor tightened like a jaw.
Metal screamed.
Then it went quiet.
Zhen turned back to Yuerin as if nothing happened.
"ASSASSINS: REMOVED."
He paused, then added in his blunt way:
"REMOVED IS ALSO GOOD."
Yuerin almost rolled her eyes, but she didn't have time. She kept dragging the Pavilion leader deeper into the Conclave vault corridor.
Inside the Conclave vault, gold light filled the air like trapped sunlight.
The corridor was long and smooth, lined with floating crystal boxes. Each box held a relic. Each relic carried a rule.
Words rose from the floor again, black and sharp:
PAY WITH MEMORY.PAY WITH NAME.PAY WITH TIME.
Yuerin's eyes moved fast, reading the trap patterns like a killer reading a target's breathing.
She did not step into the center.
She hugged the edge where shadow touched the wall.
The Pavilion leader laughed softly behind their mask.
"You think you can cheat the Conclave?" the leader asked.
Yuerin's reply was cold.
"I don't cheat," she said. "I cut."
She flicked her fingers.
A shadow needle shot forward and touched the floor words.
The words tried to cling to the needle, like a hungry mouth biting the first thing it could.
The needle turned black at the tip.
Yuerin smiled without warmth.
"So it's a real trap," she murmured.
She looked at the Pavilion leader.
"Now tell me," she said. "What happens if someone pays with name?"
The leader's mask tilted.
"They lose it," the leader said. "The corridor forgets them. Then the world starts forgetting too."
Yuerin's eyes narrowed.
"Like a soft erase," she muttered.
The leader's voice was almost proud.
"The Conclave sells this kind of death to kings," they said.
Yuerin tugged the chain.
"Then I'll buy time instead," she said.
She stepped forward, but not with her body.
With her shadow.
She sent her shadow across the corridor first. The trap words grabbed at it.
PAY WITH TIME.
The shadow flickered, like it aged for one breath.
Yuerin's eyes sharpened.
"So it takes years," she said quietly.
She did not panic.
She pulled her shadow back and cut the time-mark off like cutting rotten cloth. The aged part of the shadow fell to the floor and faded.
The Pavilion leader's laughter stopped.
"You can cut the payment?" they asked, surprised.
Yuerin's voice stayed flat.
"I cut everything," she said.
Then her gaze shifted to one crystal box on the side wall.
Inside it, a thin dagger floated.
On the blade were faint words:
KARMA-ERASE.
Yuerin's eyes narrowed.
This was the kind of thing the Monastery would love.
A weapon that could erase ties, erase guilt, erase consequence.
A way to kill without the world remembering.
Yuerin turned away from it and kept moving, dragging the leader with her.
"Where is the nail road?" she demanded again.
The leader pointed ahead.
"At the end," they said. "But when it opens, the whole Conclave will know you are here."
Yuerin's voice stayed cold.
"Let them know," she said.
Outside, Xuan Chi's moon shook again.
A Court stamp formed above the lane, trying to finalize.
VERDICT: EXECUTE.
Drakonix opened his eyes.
His prismatic wing trembled, still weak, still half-grown, but real.
He breathed out.
A thin flame line touched the verdict stamp.
The stamp burned.
But this time, the sky fought back.
A chain of pale law formed behind the stamp, like a leash pulling it into place again.
Drakonix's flame flickered.
His eyes narrowed in a tired, angry way.
He breathed again.
The flame did not just touch the stamp.
It touched the chain behind it.
The chain burned.
It did not break fully, but it weakened.
The verdict stamp shook.
Zhen's eyes widened slightly.
"COURT LAW CHAIN DETECTED," he said.
Then, as if stating a lesson:
"CHAIN IS PROBLEM."
Yuerin grunted.
"Yes," she said. "Chain is problem."
Drakonix's breath grew rough. He was pushing too hard.
But his flame kept burning the law chain in small bites, like a beast chewing through iron.
Back inside the Ice Phoenix Tomb, Shan Wei watched the Fate Nail Core rise higher from the altar.
It was black-gold, like frozen night with sunlight trapped inside. It had runes that did not look like normal runes. They looked like rules, carved by something older than this realm.
The phoenix spirit's wings spread wide.
"If you take it," the phoenix warned, "you become a beacon. The Court will not stop voting. The Monastery will not stop hunting."
Shan Wei's answer was calm.
"Then they will come," he said.
The phoenix spirit stared at him.
"And the price?" it asked.
Shan Wei drew a phoenix-shaped vow formation in the air, simple but strong. He pressed his palm to his chest ring, and a thin line of blood appeared on his skin—just one drop, not dramatic, not wasteful.
He touched the blood to the vow formation.
"I swear," Shan Wei said, voice steady. "I will return what was stolen from the Ice Phoenix Clan. I will break the nails made from your pain. I will free the frost node without destroying her."
The vow formation lit up with frost-fire.
The phoenix spirit watched it, then nodded once, slow.
"Accepted," it said.
The frost light on Shan Wei's arm loosened slightly.
Not gone.
But no longer trying to steal his whole life in one pull.
Shan Wei reached toward the rising core.
The moment his fingers neared it, the core pulsed.
The sealed Heart in Shan Wei's chest reacted like it heard an old enemy.
A deep throb.
A strong pull.
The air shook.
And a voice—not the phoenix, not the monk—spoke from the core itself.
It did not sound loud.
It sounded like a title being read in a courtroom older than heaven.
"Returning Prism Emperor."
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed.
The monk's voice screamed from the walls, full of panic now.
"DO NOT TAKE IT!"
The Court stamp above Shan Wei pulsed harder.
VERDICT: FINALIZING.
Outside, Drakonix's flame wavered as he fought the law chain.
Inside, Shan Wei's hand closed on the Fate Nail Core.
The core burned cold in his palm.
And the Ice Phoenix Tomb shook like it was waking from a long sleep.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
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