The incense burned low, its smoke curling in tight spirals. Fenrir sat with his eyes closed, struggling to still his breath, legs cramping beneath him.

  Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

  It sounded simple when Joshua said it. But the silence was deafening. Every creak of bone, every flutter of thought echoed louder in this forced stillness.

  “I can’t feel anything,” Fenrir muttered, eyes still shut.

  Joshua stood behind him, arms crossed, gaze distant. His robes moved with the wind like ink flowing in water.

  “You’re not meant to feel,” he replied softly. “You’re meant to listen.”

  Fenrir furrowed his brow. “To what?”

  Joshua didn’t answer. Not with words.

  ---

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  Flashback: One Hour Earlier

  When Joshua first laid eyes on the boy, he had already known. Not through observation—but through spiritual sense.

  While Fenrir lay unconscious, Joshua placed two fingers against his forehead and extended a sliver of spiritual energy inward. The world of flesh peeled away, revealing the boy’s inner world—a vast cavern choked in shadow and ash.

  Most cultivators’ inner realms were orderly or elemental. But Fenrir’s?

  A cavern with scorched stone, but at its center—a single ember. Faint. Barely alive. But ancient, and unyielding. It pulsed once every few seconds, refusing to go out.

  Joshua narrowed his eyes.

  “A rare affinity,” he murmured. “Not elemental. Not spiritual. This is…”

  The ember flared once more in protest—like it sensed the intrusion.

  Joshua withdrew.

  “You’re not a genius,” he thought. “You’re something more dangerous. A survivor with a buried soul flame.”

  The boy’s spiritual root was not a typical element like fire, water, or wind. It was Ash Flame—an extinct type, known for awakening only in those who endure devastation and still choose to burn.

  ---

  Back to Present

  Fenrir exhaled slowly. For the first time, the world around him shifted.

  He didn’t see the wind. But he felt its rhythm. He didn’t see light. But he sensed the faintest warmth curling in his chest.

  He opened his eyes.

  Joshua gave a single nod. “You’ve found it.”

  “I… felt it,” Fenrir said, stunned. “Something small, like heat. Inside my chest.”

  “Your inner flame. It has awakened.”

  Fenrir’s hands trembled. “Does that mean I can cultivate?”

  “No,” Joshua replied. “It means you must.”

  ---

  That night, beneath the stars, Joshua gave Fenrir his first technique: Ashfire Breathing Sutra, a mortal-ranked method modified from Joshua’s own past teachings. Simple, but stable. Safe for someone who burned inside.

  As Fenrir recited the first verse and inhaled, the wind stirred again.

  The boy who had once stood alone with a broken blade had taken his first step onto the path of immortality.