The return of the Kirin Heir

Names that should be Forgotten

The pendant weighed heavier than it should have.

Jin Longwei turned it over in his hand again, tracing the worn sigil carved into the gold. A phoenix enclosed within a ring of clouds—a mark long forbidden, even to speak of. The crest of the Celestial Alchemic Court, a sect thought eradicated in the Great Purge twenty years ago.

His mother had worn it openly.

Until she vanished, leaving only rumors of fire and betrayal in her wake.

> “Why do you have this?” Jin asked quietly.

Liang Suya studied his expression. “Because I saw her die. And I saw who ordered it.”

His voice dropped to a dangerous pitch. “Say the name.”

She hesitated, then leaned in, her breath cold against his skin.

> “Patriarch Yun Sheng.”

Jin went still. The name was familiar—a sect lord, yes, but more than that. He had once been a trusted advisor in the imperial court. A man who shook hands with kings and poisoned them with the other.

> “He hunts you still,” Suya added. “He never believed you died.”

Jin clenched the pendant, sharp edges biting into his palm. “Why kill her?”

Liang Suya’s voice was soft. “Because she was the last Flame Warden of the Kirin Line. The last to hold the rites.”

Jin’s heart skipped. “Then I…”

“Yes,” Suya said. “You are the heir not only to the Kirin Flame. But to the Rite of Rebirth—the forbidden legacy that can restore, or destroy, entire bloodlines.”

She stepped back, the mist curling around her form like a shroud.

> “He fears what you could become.”

Jin looked down at his hand. The golden flame in his veins pulsed slowly beneath his skin, steady… but growing.

---

When Jin returned to Qing Village, dawn was just beginning to break. Mei was already awake, watching the road from her rooftop perch.

“Trouble?” she asked as he approached.

Jin gave a slight nod. “Trouble with a familiar face.”

He handed her a sealed scroll. “Instructions. In case I vanish again.”

Her eyes widened, but she accepted it without protest. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No,” he said. “But we prepare anyway.”

She grinned, fiercely. “Always.”

---

Zhao Wen met Jin at the edge of the field, brows furrowed in concern. “You met with them?”

Jin nodded.

“Was it a trap?”

“No,” Jin said. “Worse. It was a truth I’ve spent ten years trying not to remember.”

He handed Zhao the pendant.

Zhao’s face blanched. “This… this symbol was struck from all records. Even the Imperial Libraries don’t mention it.”

Jin gave him a hard look. “Start asking questions in Xuan City. Quietly. I want everything: old fire records, court movements before the purge, and anyone who still whispers about the Celestial Alchemists.”

Zhao tucked the pendant into his sleeve. “I’ll need time.”

“You have three days.”

Zhao opened his mouth to protest—then saw the fire in Jin’s eyes and wisely held his tongue.

---

That night, Jin meditated within the ruined shrine behind the village, the place where his qi had first stirred weeks ago. He drew the pendant before him, lit four silver candles, and poured a line of crushed spiritroot powder into the air.

The glyphs shimmered around him.

His mind sank deep into memory.

---

Ten years ago. Mount Zhen.

Flames danced around him. The shrine crumbled. His mother stood in the center of the courtyard, arms raised, chanting the forbidden rite. Her hair billowed, not with wind—but with sheer energy.

> “The Kirin Flame must endure,” she said. “Even if I do not.”

She turned to Jin, who was barely seventeen then. “Protect it, Longwei. Protect it from the hands that would bend it to tyranny.”

Behind her, figures in red descended—masked, armed with silver-threaded spears.

She smiled once, sadly.

Then vanished in fire.

---

Jin gasped, the vision snapping like glass in his mind.

The shrine’s candles flickered.

From the trees behind him, a figure emerged—this one real.

It was Yan Rui, the assassin.

But he no longer crept.

He bowed.

> “I came to kill you,” Rui said calmly. “But I have seen the truth.”

Jin stood, wary.

“I heard the name in your vision,” Rui said. “I am of the Nine Veins Sect—but once, my ancestors served the Flame Wardens.”

He pulled aside his sleeve, revealing a faded brand—the same phoenix sigil Jin held in his palm.

> “If you rise,” Yan Rui said solemnly, “I will follow.”

Jin looked at him, uncertain for a breath.

Then he nodded.

> “Then rise with me. We have a war to start.”