The flames roared with a hunger that seemed to swallow the very air. Feng Ziyan stood in the heart of the burning Phoenix Temple, the flickering light casting an eerie glow on the scene. Her bridal robe, rich and embroidered with gold and crimson, fluttered in the heat like the wings of a dying bird. Yet, despite the searing pain of the fire licking at her skin, she felt nothing but the sharp sting of betrayal.
This is how it ends, she thought bitterly, her bloodied hands gripping the cold stone floor as she collapsed to her knees.
Behind her, the Phoenix Temple—once a symbol of grace and sanctity—was now a twisted skeleton of charred beams and falling rubble. The only sound was the crackle of flames and the distant murmur of laughter. Mocking. It was the laugh of someone who had seen the world break and finally found it amusing.
She could hear their voices, floating to her from the shadows.
"It's for the best, Ziyan. You were always too perfect. Too powerful. You were never meant for love or power." The voice was unmistakable—her cousin, Feng Yurou, the one who had once been her closest friend.
Ziyan lifted her head slowly, her vision blurred by smoke and the blood that dripped from her mouth. There, standing in the doorway of the temple, her cousin wore Ziyan's own golden phoenix crown, a cruel mockery of the ceremony that had once been meant to crown Ziyan as the future matriarch of the Feng Clan.
"Why, Yurou?" Ziyan gasped, her voice a mere whisper, yet it carried through the oppressive silence. "Why betray me?"
Yurou's face, twisted in the dim light, was a picture of feigned innocence. She smiled sweetly, her voice laced with poison. "Because, dear cousin, you were born to rule. But power is for those who know how to control it, not for fools who cling to it with an iron grip."
The words were a slap in the face. Ziyan had never been naive; she knew the stakes. Yet, in that moment, she realized just how much her own family had underestimated her. They had planned this from the start, woven the threads of her fall so delicately, so invisibly, that even she couldn't see the snare until it was too late.
Behind Yurou, her uncle and the others who had once feigned affection stood, watching with cold satisfaction. Ziyan's uncle—her mother's brother—was the one who had orchestrated her downfall, a betrayal so deep it could never be forgiven.
She looked at the man she had once loved, the one who had promised to protect her with his life. But now he stood there, his expression hollow, devoid of any emotion. His name, once so familiar, now felt like a curse.
"I... trusted you," Ziyan whispered, barely able to choke out the words. But there was no answer. His silence was more damning than any confession could have been.
The flames around her grew higher, and the heat became unbearable. The smoke stung her eyes, yet she remained rooted to the spot, her heart colder than the very fire that consumed her.
Her vision began to blur as her breath grew shallow. This was it. This was her end.
But even in the face of death, a deep, primal strength surged within her. She had been betrayed, humiliated, and cast aside—but she would not die as a victim.
"Burn me now," Ziyan hissed, her voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. "But remember this: when I rise again, I will bring down everyone who did this to me. I swear on the blood of the phoenix, I will return, and I will make you all pay."
As the flames reached out toward her, the world around her turned to ash. The last thing she saw was Yurou's smug smile before the fire engulfed her completely.
---
Thirteen Years Earlier
A sharp gasp split the stillness of the darkened shrine, and Feng Ziyan's eyes shot open. She was no longer in the fire; no longer consumed by the flames. Instead, she found herself lying on the cold stone floor of an ancient altar. The familiar scent of incense and the faint murmur of prayers hung in the air.
The Phoenix Shrine, she thought, disoriented. But this... this was the night I was broken.
She sat up quickly, her body trembling—not from fear, but from the overwhelming flood of memories that rushed through her. Her hands shook as she gripped the altar, steadying herself as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The last thing she remembered was the fire, the cruel betrayal, and her death. Now, she was back at the place where everything had begun—where her family had first decided her fate.
Ziyan's heart pounded in her chest as her mind struggled to piece together the fragments of her past life. She was no longer the naive young woman she had been, deceived by love and trust. The fire had consumed her body, but not her soul. The flames had forged something within her—a burning desire for revenge, and a promise to herself that she would not let her enemies win.
She was back. Thirteen years old again, but no longer the same.
"I… I'm back." Her voice was hoarse, her words a whisper of disbelief. But as the words left her lips, something within her stirred. A force. Something ancient. She felt it awaken deep inside her chest, a fire that had been buried long ago, waiting for the right moment to burn once more.
Ziyan took a slow, deep breath as the sensation grew stronger, coursing through her veins like molten gold. She had died in one life, but now she was reborn—stronger, sharper, and filled with a purpose. She would not be the same helpless girl who had once been manipulated by her family.
I will rise again. And this time, nothing will stand in my way.
The fire within her flared, a golden light that pulsed with power. She stumbled to her feet, her legs weak but steady, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. The burning sensation inside her grew stronger, and she felt it—her soul space. The power that had been sealed away in her past life was now awakening, and it called to her like a forgotten song.
As her mind cleared, a voice echoed in her thoughts. It was soft, yet firm, as though it came from deep within her own soul.
You have died once. Now rise, Phoenix Child.
The voice was feminine, soothing, yet filled with authority. Ziyan's heart skipped a beat. It was the voice of the one who had been watching over her—the one who had been trapped within her soul space, waiting for the right moment to awaken.
The golden fire surged again, and Ziyan gasped. The power was hers. She could feel it, swirling around her like a storm, filling her with strength, with purpose. This was no mere coincidence. This was fate.
"I will not be weak again," Ziyan whispered, a fire burning in her chest as she stood tall, her resolve unshaken.
She was reborn. And now, she would make those who betrayed her pay.
---
Morning light filtered softly through the trees as Feng Ziyan walked back toward her family's estate, her face a perfect mask of calm. Her maid, Little Lian, trailed behind her, fussing nervously over her clothes and hair.
"Young Miss, are you sure you're alright? You were gone all night!" Lian fretted, her voice full of concern.
Ziyan's lips curved into a faint smile, one that was both serene and dangerous. "I am fine, Lian. I've simply had a moment to... reflect. Don't worry about me."
Her heart felt light, though her mind was consumed by the thoughts of what had transpired. The fire had burned away her past life, but it had also awakened something powerful within her. She was no longer the innocent, naive girl she had been. She was stronger now, more determined.
As they approached the manor, Ziyan's thoughts darkened. Her family was still in the dark about her rebirth. But it wouldn't stay that way for long. There were debts to be repaid, and she would make sure they paid in full.
"Let the game begin," she murmured under her breath, her gaze cold and calculating as she entered the gates of the Feng Manor.