Fire forged the Nine Provinces. Fire returned from the abyss, no longer for sacrifice, no longer for burning, but for life. Like spring water moistening the soil, like dawn breaking the night, it flowed quietly through the veins of the Nine Provinces. It was no longer a divine object atop a lofty altar, no longer a deadly weapon on the battlefield, but a warm flame on the hearth, a gentle glow in a medicinal furnace, hope among the furrows.
Nian Sheng stood atop Greenstone Cliff, wind brushing his robes, and watched the Nine Provinces surge with wind and cloud. The myriad people's heart flame flowed like a river of stars, each point joining the next to form an undying sea of light. He held a fragment of the Flame Blade. Though the blade was broken, it still held the lingering warmth of the Flame Venerable's will. He drew up the earth's fire and gathered the people's collective will, forging the "Civilization Furnace" on the old site of the Ash Kiln—the place where fire had once been imprisoned and the people enslaved. This furnace forged neither weapons nor scepters, served neither conquest nor glory. It existed solely for the people's livelihood, so the cold could have clothing, the hungry could have food, the sick could have medicine, and travelers could have light.
On the day the furnace was completed, heaven and earth fell silent. No wind stirred across the Nine Provinces. Wan Huo bowed low, as though awaiting the first call.
When the first blaze rose, Nian Sheng cast a farmer's rusty plow into the furnace. That plow had tilled three generations' fields. Its blade was mottled, its frame crisscrossed with cracks—a witness to suffering, and a symbol of resilience. Heart flame curled around it, fire-speech murmured low, like a mother's