The morning after the firestorm, silence ruled the village. The earth was scorched where DaoZun had unleashed his inner flame, but not a single life was lost. The villagers stared at him from a distance — no longer as a boy, but as a force.
DaoZun sat by the river, his red and blue eyes calm. Inside, however, a storm raged.
"What was that power?" he whispered to himself. "Why did it answer me?"
Suddenly, a soft voice echoed in his mind — not from outside, but from within his soul.
"You have awakened the Kundali Flame. Your journey has just begun."
Startled, DaoZun closed his eyes and sat in meditation. Deep within his spiritual sea, he saw it — a lotus of fire spinning gently, surrounded by golden runes and ancient symbols. At its center was a flame that had no source… yet it burned brighter than the sun.
Rishi Anant sensed it from miles away. He rushed to the river and stood beside his student.
"So… it has started," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
DaoZun opened his eyes.
"Master, what is the Kundali Flame?"
"It is the divine fire of the soul — a power that few ever awaken. It chooses only one in a thousand years."
"Then why me?"
"Because your fate is not human."
That night, Rishi Anant revealed the truth.
DaoZun was not just a boy. He was the last descendant of the Agni Parampara, an ancient bloodline of fire cultivators believed to have vanished after the Great Purge. Their flame could purify sins, burn evil, and open gateways between worlds.
But such power came with a price.
"You must now leave this village," Rishi said. "Your training here is over. To master your path, you must walk alone."
DaoZun stood silently. The people who once feared him now bowed in respect. The wind itself whispered his name.
He looked back one last time — at the river, the shrine, the hills. Then he turned toward the rising sun.
Wrapped in robes of crimson and gold, his long hair flowing like fire, DaoZun stepped into the unknown, ready to face a world that feared the flame… but would soon bow to it.