As the arcane glyph, a sigil of demonic power, faded and the palace gates groaned open, the molten heart of the volcano surged in violent protest. A guttural roar, a sound born of fire and fury, echoed from the depths as the lava sea erupted in a cataclysmic upheaval. Like a fiery tidal wave, the molten rock surged skyward, driven by an unseen, irresistible force.

It was as though the very bowels of the earth were being forced skyward in a volcanic birthing. A heat a thousandfold greater than before seared the air as the lava clawed towards the heavens. The surrounding stone, already scarred by centuries of fire, fractured and crumbled, dissolving into plumes of black smoke that joined the inferno’s ascent.

Outside, the volcano shuddered and trembled as if in the throes of agony. Plumes of black smoke, thicker and more violent than any seen before, belched forth from the crater, spreading across the sky in a choking, suffocating cloud. The earth trembled, and the very heavens seemed to recoil.

Soon, the sun was blotted out. Darkness descended, punctuated only by the crimson glow of fissures in the earth, veins of molten fire snaking across the ravaged landscape. The world was plunged into a hellish twilight.

Within the volcano’s fiery maw, the warrior Bellows shot forth, seizing his chance as the lava reached its zenith. He plunged into the open gates of the palace, followed swiftly by the others, each driven by their own desperate ambitions.

But they were too late. As the torrent of molten rock raged around them, a grotesque hand, wreathed in hellfire, erupted from the crimson tide. It seized the village beauty, her scream cut short as she was dragged, kicking and struggling, into the fiery abyss.

The sudden horror sent a ripple of shock through the ranks of the mages.

But the nightmare had only just begun. As the lava soared higher, a deafening roar ripped through the air, shattering what little remained of the surrounding stone.

From the roiling depths of the lava sea, a violet-red coffin emerged, carried aloft by the molten tide. The roar intensified from within, a sound of ancient malice and unspeakable power.

Wang Ai and Hu Juan exchanged a look of terror. They knew the coffin for what it was. Without hesitation, they invoked a spell, their hands moving in a blur of arcane gestures. Together, they wove a path through the chaos, their figures blurring as they surged towards the palace gates.

As they breached the threshold, the coffin exploded in a shower of splinters, each shard a fragment of corrupted wood, each landing like a cursed dart upon the remaining mages. From the wreckage emerged a figure cloaked in crimson, an ancient horror radiating an aura of utter death.

The red-robed horror lunged forward. Heavenly Fortune flashed his gaze, his lips moving silently in an ancient incantation. The ancient horror faltered, frozen momentarily by the celestial force.

Taking advantage of the pause, Heavenly Fortune turned and hurled himself towards the palace entrance, but it was a futile effort. The red-robed horror exploded in a burst of crimson energy, unleashing a dragon of pure fire, a ravenous beast of destruction that lunged forth to devour the remaining mages.

The snow-clad maiden, already pale with terror, had left her perch. She cried out as the fire dragon engulfed her, her body dissolving into crystalline motes, pulled into the beast’s fiery form.

The remaining mages, each driven by their own fear and desperation, plunged towards the palace, abandoning all thought of comradeship. Wang Lin, having anticipated the coffin’s unveiling, had already made his move. Yet, as he reached the entrance, Voidson, the last mage to enter, turned, his eyes filled with malicious intent.

Before Voidson could strike, the fire dragon roared again, its ravenous maw engulfing everything in its path, including the palace itself. Wang Lin found himself caught in a vortex of fire, pulled into the dragon’s belly alongside the very palace walls.

The dragon, having devoured all, retreated into the depths of the lava sea, causing a further surge of molten rock that erupted from the volcano in a final, cataclysmic burst. Molten fire rained down upon the land, setting the ravaged landscape ablaze.

After what seemed an eternity, the eruption subsided. Only plumes of black smoke continued to rise. Within the volcano, the lava began to recede, returning to its slumbering depths. The palace, however, had vanished.

Deep within the molten sea, within the belly of the beast, the swallowed palace remained, surrounded by the oppressive heat of the lava.

Nearby, untouched by the surrounding inferno, Wang Lin materialized. The heat, instead of harming him, seemed to soothe his wounds. The power of fire flowed around him, feeding the dormant Vermillion Bird within his soul, filling his body with its power.

He settled into a meditative pose, sinking slowly into the lava, coming to rest a thousand fathoms from the palace. As he began to channel the power, the essence of fire flowed into him.

Time slipped away, marked only by the ebb and flow of the lava. When Wang Lin finally opened his eyes, a serene calm had settled within him.

His power flowed stronger than ever. He resumed his meditation, unwilling to waste this rare opportunity. He closed his eyes and continued to absorb the fiery power.

As time passed, the lava around him diminished. Three times, he was awakened by the volcanic unrest, each time carefully observing the volcano’s tumultuous rebirth before returning to his fiery slumber.

On the fourth day, he hesitated. While power still remained in the lava, Wang Lin no longer dared to absorb more. He had begun to feel an inexplicable connection to the molten heart of the volcano, sensing a presence, an ancient spirit within the fiery depths.

To take more risked awakening that power. He surmised that the spirit was the dragon who swallowed the palace.

With a sigh, Wang Lin rose and started to move. He saw a bubble of fire and air drift to the palace gates.

Within were the woman and the beauty. The beauty lay unconscious and burned, her existence hanging by a string. The woman had traded snow for resilience, and with it her life.

The woman saw Wang Lin. She knew he embodied the flames they hid from.

“The four saints were right to be fearful. It is he who has power.”

She had survived many months with the beauty, each day clinging to life. Now she saw the palace. She tried her best to reach for it, knowing it could be salvation. Then she saw Wang Lin.

She must save the beauty and escape.

“I will strike a deal. We have no quarrel!”

Wang Lin’s face was cold, he advanced towards them. The woman panicked, he had been coming to end the beauty’s life.

She moved faster to the gates, the bubble threatened to rupture.

“Wang Lin! You can’t take it out on us!”

She tried to move as fast as possible.