"Lily is magnificent," Four Eyes said softly.

Ling Li nodded, her gaze still locked on the arena. "He's here."

Four Eyes didn't flinch. He had already sensed it. He had been watching Ling Li's breath, the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her aura bristled like a blade unsheathed.

He turned to her, his voice low but firm. "Don't forget… we are all here too."

Ling Li looked at Four Eyes, then really took a look. His eyes held no fear, only resolve. The kind that had carried them through exile, through war, through the quiet battles of parenthood and prophecy.

She squeezed his hand, her voice barely a whisper. "I know."

And in that moment, the storm circling Lily felt just a little farther away.

Because Ling Li was not alone.

And neither was the flame.

Solaris: The Final Retaliation

Far beneath the city, in the catacombs carved from vengeance and bone, Solaris stood before the altar of fireglass. His cloak was torn. His eyes burned with fury. The Third Ironsworn had failed. The formation had held. The flame had danced beyond his reach.

But he was not done.

He raised his hand, and the altar cracked.

"I gave you shadows," he hissed. "Now I give you storms."

From the depths, he summoned his final weapon — a cursed entity born of fractured souls and bound to his will. It had no name — only hunger.

It would not infiltrate.

It would consume.

Solaris stepped into the circle, his body dissolving into a form of cursed qi. He would not send others. He would go himself.

Do or die.

The Final Flight: Uneven Bars

It was the fifth and last day of the Gymnastics Olympics. The stadium lights dimmed slightly, casting a soft halo over the uneven bars. The crowd hushed. The announcer's voice echoed through the arena:

"Next up — representing the Philippines — Lily Li!"

A ripple of anticipation swept through the audience. Phones lifted. Cameras zoomed. The live stream surged past a million viewers in seconds.

In the stands, Fatty clutched his dumpling box like a sacred relic, his eyes wide, his heart thudding. "She's going to fly," he whispered.

Coach Carlos stood near the judges' table, arms folded tightly, his jaw clenched. He had trained her for this moment — for this exact routine. But now, he could only watch.

Lily stepped forward.

Her fingers curled around the chalked bar. Her breath slowed. Her eyes locked onto the metal, but her mind was already beyond it — mapping the air, the angles, the rhythm.

She launched.

Her body arched into a toe-on Shaposhnikova, transitioning seamlessly into a Pak salto — her legs slicing the air like twin blades. The crowd gasped. She caught the low bar with a whisper of impact, then swung into a Maloney half, twisting mid-air before regripping the high bar with surgical precision.

Then came the storm.

She executed a full-twisting double layout dismount — two full rotations, her body stretched like a ribbon of steel, her twist so fast it blurred. She landed with a thud so clean it echoed.

Silence.

Then —

Explosion.

The crowd erupted. Flags waved. Children screamed. Commentators stumbled over their words.

"Lily Li just redefined the standard!" one shouted.

"She didn't land. She descended," another gasped.

The judges stared, stunned. One dropped his pen. Another leaned forward, whispering, "That was… that was textbook perfection."

The live stream chat exploded:

At home in Naga, Mr. and Mrs. Li sat surrounded by relatives, their living room glowing with the broadcast. Mrs. Li clutched her husband's hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. "She did it," she whispered. "She really did it."

Mr. Li nodded, his voice thick. "She's our granddaughter. And now she belongs to history."

Everyone in the living room happily cheered.

In another quiet home, Mr. and Mrs. Xu watched from their modest screen, wrapped in blankets, their health too fragile for travel. But their eyes sparkled.

"She's grown," Mr. Xu said softly. "She's become everything Ling Li hoped."

Back in the stadium, Fatty was sobbing openly, his face buried in Chatty's shoulder.

"She's a comet," he choked. "She's my comet."

Chatty, equally overwhelmed, nodded. "I'm emotionally dehydrated."

Coach Carlos turned away, wiping his eyes. He had never cried in public.

But today, he did.

Lily stood on the mat, chest heaving, arms raised. Her eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto her people — her flamekeepers.

Ling Li stood on the balcony, her hand over her heart, her aura glowing faintly. Four Eyes beside her whispered, "She's untouchable."

And for a moment, even Solaris — watching from exile, cloaked in cursed qi—was silent.

Because the flame had not just danced.

It had soared.

The Storm Breaks

Back at the stadium, the celebration was still unfolding. Lily had just stepped off the mat, her body trembling, her heart full. Coach Carlos embraced her, whispering, "You did it. You made history."

But then—

The lights flickered.

The air dropped ten degrees.

The formation flared.

Ling Li's eyes snapped open. "He's here."

The First Shah appeared beside her. "He's coming in full form."

The Second Shah was already moving, his subordinates activating the secondary seals.

Solaris emerged from the shadows of the rafters, his body cloaked in cursed flame, his eyes locked on Lily.

The crowd didn't see him.

But Lily did.

She turned, her breath catching, her aura flaring instinctively.

Solaris raised his hand, and the cursed entity surged forward — a wave of black fire aimed directly at her.

But before it could reach—

The Final Stand: A Dome of Flame and Will

Ling Li descended like lightning, her overcoat trailing golden fire, her eyes burning with ancestral fury. Her palm struck the air with a thunderclap, and the protective formation exploded outward — an incandescent dome of ancestral light that rippled across the stadium like a tidal wave of divine qi.

The cursed entity screamed, recoiling violently as its essence collided with the barrier. Its form twisted, shrieked, and began to unravel.

Solaris snarled from the rafters, his body cloaked in cursed flame, his voice a hiss of hatred. "You cannot shield her forever!"

But he was wrong.

Fatty leapt from the stands, dumpling box flying, tears streaking his cheeks. "You want her? You go through me!" he roared, planting himself between Lily and the cursed blast, arms wide, heart thunderous.

Chatty followed, the Enfield scarf wrapped dramatically around his neck, wielding a chopstick like a sword. "I've trained for this moment! I watched every martial arts movie twice!"

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.