Dark lord of Duo Qi continent

The road stretched before Yan Feng, its uneven path winding into the distance. The faint glow of twilight painted the horizon, and the town of Stonebrook disappeared behind him like a fading memory. With every step forward, his thoughts churned in uncertainty. The Spirit Flame Scroll in Bluewood City was a beacon of hope, but it was a far-off goal, one he couldn't afford to rush toward recklessly.

"Boy," Zhu Yan's voice came, his tone sharp despite his weakened state. "You do realize you're as helpless as a blindfolded child in a battlefield, don't you? You're strong, but strength without skill or knowledge is a pitiful thing."

Yan Feng gritted his teeth. "I know that. But what am I supposed to do? The tournament is my only lead. I don't have time to waste."

"Time?" Zhu Yan scoffed. "You have a year until that competition. That's plenty of time to shape yourself into something more than a fumbling idiot wielding a flame he doesn't understand."

Yan Feng exhaled, frustration bubbling under his skin. "And how do I do that? You're barely holding yourself together, and I don't exactly have a master to guide me."

"Master?" Zhu Yan let out a dry laugh. "You have me, boy. And even in my current state, I can teach you things these so-called 'masters' can only dream of. But first… you need a foundation. You have potential, but it's raw, unrefined. We'll start with the basics."

The first rays of dawn found Yan Feng seated cross-legged in a secluded clearing. The hum of nature surrounded him, but his focus was entirely inward. Zhu Yan's instructions echoed in his mind.

"Feel the flame within you. It is more than a source of power—it is a living thing. Control it, and it will serve you. Let it run wild, and it will consume you."

Yan Feng took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees. He reached for the faint flicker of fire within him, the remnants of the artificial flame he had inherited from the Crimson Nether Sect. It stirred reluctantly, like a beast chained in the depths of his soul.

"Good. Now, focus. Draw it to your core, but do not force it. Flames resist brute strength—they must be coaxed, guided."

Yan Feng gritted his teeth as he tried to channel the flame. It was like trying to grasp a wisp of smoke—it slipped through his mental grasp, darting away whenever he tried to seize it.

"Damn it," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Patience, boy. Mastery does not come in a day. Again."

Hours passed as Yan Feng struggled to control the flame. Each attempt brought him closer, but progress was slow. By the time the sun was high in the sky, he was exhausted, his body drenched in sweat.

"Enough for now," Zhu Yan said, his voice softer. "You've taken the first step, and that's more than most can say. Rest, but do not grow complacent. Tomorrow, we continue."

The next day, Yan Feng continued his journey south, his pace steady but unhurried. The road was quiet, the only sound the crunch of his boots on the dirt path. He kept his senses sharp, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

By midday, he came across a small caravan stopped on the side of the road. Three wagons loaded with goods stood in a circle, and a group of rough-looking men surrounded them. Their laughter and crude jokes carried through the air, but Yan Feng's eyes were drawn to the two figures tied to a post—a middle-aged man and a young girl, both bruised and bloodied.

"Bandits," Zhu Yan remarked. "Common scum. But do not underestimate them. Even a snake without venom can kill if it strikes true."

Yan Feng hesitated. He had no obligation to help these people, and his own strength was far from reliable. But the sight of the girl's tear-streaked face gnawed at him.

"Zhu Yan," he said quietly. "Can I take them?"

"Perhaps. Their strength is mediocre, but you're untrained. Still, this could be an opportunity to test yourself. Flames are not meant to be kept hidden, boy. They are meant to burn."

Yan Feng's jaw tightened. He couldn't ignore this. The fire within him flared, eager and hungry. He stepped off the road, moving toward the caravan.

One of the bandits noticed him first, a wiry man with a crooked nose. "Hey! Who's this runt?" he called, drawing the attention of the others.

Yan Feng stopped a few paces away, his eyes cold. "Let them go," he said simply.

The bandits burst into laughter. Their leader, a burly man with a scar across his face, stepped forward. "And what are you gonna do if we don't, huh? You think you can take all of us on?"

Yan Feng didn't respond. He raised his hand, and a flicker of flame danced on his palm. It was small, almost pitiful, but the heat it radiated was enough to make the bandits pause.

"Leave now," Yan Feng said, his voice steady. "Or burn."

The leader's face twisted in anger. "Get him!" he barked, and two of the bandits charged forward, their blades gleaming in the sunlight.

Yan Feng's heart pounded as the first bandit swung at him. He dodged to the side, the blade missing him by inches. The second bandit came at him from the other side, and Yan Feng thrust his hand forward, releasing a burst of flame.

The fire wasn't strong, but it was enough to scorch the man's arm, making him cry out in pain. Yan Feng used the distraction to land a punch to his stomach, sending him sprawling.

The first bandit hesitated, glancing at his fallen companion. Yan Feng didn't give him a chance to recover. He unleashed another burst of flame, forcing the man to retreat.

The other bandits watched in shock as their comrades fell back, their confidence shaken.

"Good," Zhu Yan's voice said. "You're learning. But don't get cocky. Focus."

The leader growled, stepping forward with his massive axe. "You think you're tough, huh? Let's see how you handle this!"

He charged at Yan Feng, his axe swinging in a wide arc. Yan Feng barely managed to dodge, the blade grazing his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and retaliated, launching a stream of flame at the man.

The fire struck the leader's arm, burning through his sleeve and searing his skin. He roared in pain, but he didn't stop. His swings grew wilder, more desperate.

Yan Feng knew he couldn't keep this up. The flame within him was still unstable, and his control was shaky at best. But he couldn't afford to lose.

With a final surge of determination, he channeled all his remaining energy into one attack. The flame in his palm grew brighter, hotter, until it was almost blinding.

"Burn!" he shouted, thrusting his hand forward.

The fire erupted, engulfing the leader in a wave of heat. He screamed, dropping his axe as he fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

The remaining bandits didn't wait to see what would happen next. They turned and fled, their fear evident in their panicked cries.

Yan Feng collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. The fire within him flickered weakly, but it was still there.

"Not bad," Zhu Yan said, his voice approving. "You're still rough, but you have potential. Keep this up, and you might just survive."

Yan Feng ignored him, turning his attention to the captives. He untied them quickly, his hands trembling from exhaustion.

"Thank you," the man said, his voice filled with gratitude. "You saved our lives."

Yan Feng nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere. The fight had been a wake-up call. He was far from ready for the challenges ahead.

"Zhu Yan," he said quietly. "We need to get stronger. Faster."

"Agreed," Zhu Yan replied. "But strength takes time. Be patient, boy. Your journey is just beginning."

Yan Feng stood, his resolve hardening. The road to Bluewood City was long, but he would walk it. He would grow stronger, no matter what it took.

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