The final rehearsal took place under dimmed lights; the stadium was quiet, except for the rhythmic thud of Lily's landings and the soft commands of Coach Carlos. The air was heavy with anticipation.

Every movement Lily made was precise, honed, and deliberate — her body a weapon, her spirit a flame.

Lily mounted the beam one last time, her breath steady, her muscles trembling from repetition. The double-tucked salto backward with two full twists — her most difficult routine — was the final test.

She launched.

Time slowed.

Her body tucked, twisted, spun—a blur of grace and power. She landed with a whisper, her feet silent against the beam, her arms extended like wings.

Carlos exhaled. "Perfect!"

Lily didn't smile. She simply nodded, her eyes sharp. "Tomorrow, I make it count."

Ling Li's Formation

While Lily rehearsed, Ling Li stood atop the stadium's highest balcony, her robes fluttering in the wind. She traced ancient sigils into the air, her fingers glowing with qi. The protective formation she was crafting wasn't just spiritual — it was ancestral, woven from the Li family's deepest arts.

Golden threads of energy stretched across the venue, embedding themselves into the walls, the beams, the very foundation. The formation would detect cursed qi, distort illusions, and repel spiritual interference.

But Ling Li's heart was heavy.

She had planned to begin crafting the Nirvana Elixir and the body conditioning pills for the others. They would need them soon. But with Solaris circling Lily like a hawk, she couldn't afford to divide her focus.

'After the Olympics,' she thought. 'First, we shield the flame.'

Opening Ceremony: Asian Gymnastics Olympics

The stadium roared to life.

Flags from across Asia waved in synchronized choreography. Drummers pounded rhythms that echoed through the arena like war chants. Dancers spun in midair, suspended by invisible wires, their costumes shimmering like constellations.

The announcer's voice boomed:

"Welcome to the 2025 Asian Gymnastics Olympics! Where strength meets grace, and legends are born!"

Spotlights swept across the crowd. Delegates bowed. Athletes stood tall.

And in the center of it all, Lily waited — her uniform crisp, her gaze unwavering.

Fatty, seated with the rest of the allies, whispered to Chatty, "She's going to break the sky."

Chatty wiped a tear. "I brought tissues. For the judges."

Pharsa, who was seated beside Chatty, "I never thought my husband to be such a crybaby," she teased.

"Honey, this is only for family. Please don't make fun of me," Chatty replied, feeling aggravated, which amused Pharsa.

Lily's Performance: The Balance Beam

The arena fell silent.

Lily stepped onto the beam, her breath slow, her heart steady. The crowd leaned forward. The judges adjusted their glasses. Cameras zoomed in.

She began.

Her movements were fluid — each step a whisper, each turn a declaration. Then came the moment.

Lily launched into the double-tucked salto backward with two full twists.

The crowd gasped.

Her body spun — tight, fast, impossibly controlled. She landed with surgical precision, her feet kissing the beam, her arms slicing the air in perfect symmetry.

The judges blinked. One dropped his pen. Another whispered, "That's… not human."

The crowd erupted.

Cheers. Screams. Tears.

Fatty stood on his chair. "THAT'S MY GIRL!"

Even Coach Carlos, stoic as ever, allowed himself a smile.

But Lily didn't celebrate.

Because she felt it.

The Third Ironsworn

The girl appeared beside Lily like a ripple in reality — her form cloaked in mimicry, her aura masked. The third Ironsworn had been watching, waiting, studying Lily's rhythm, her breath, her qi.

Her plan was simple: during Lily's final pose, she would bind her spirit with a cursed thread, rendering her unconscious and vulnerable to her will. Solaris would then extract her soul fragment, severing her connection to the ancestral line.

But she hadn't accounted for the formation.

Ling Li's sigils flared.

The beam glowed.

The cursed thread snapped mid-air, recoiling like a wounded serpent.

The Third Ironsworn staggered, her illusion unraveling. The First Shah descended from the rafters like a blade, his seal already burning. The Second Shah emerged from the shadows, his palm glowing with containment.

The crowd didn't see.

But Lily did.

She turned, her eyes locking onto the Ironsworn's unraveling form.

"You're too late," she whispered.

The Ironsworn vanished in a burst of cursed smoke; her mission failed.

Aftermath

Lily bowed.

The crowd roared.

The judges scribbled furiously.

Ling Li exhaled, her formation pulsing with light.

Fatty sobbed into Chatty's shoulder. "She's going to need a dumpling throne."

Everyone "...."

'Who wants a dumpling throne?'

Even the young twins shook their little heads as if they couldn't fathom thinking about it.

__

And far beneath the city, Solaris screamed.

But the flame had not been captured.

It had been witnessed.

And it was rising.

The stadium was still vibrating from the roar of Lily's performance.

Judges were still scribbling, some with trembling hands. One leaned back in his chair, muttering, "I've never seen that land so clean. Not in twenty years." Another wiped his glasses, as if clarity might help him process what he'd just witnessed.

The audience was electric — cheering, crying, chanting her name. Flags waved. Cameras flashed. Commentators stumbled over their words, trying to capture the moment without diminishing it.

Lily stood on the mat, chest heaving, arms raised. Her eyes scanned the crowd — not for glory, but for her people.

She saw Fatty first, standing on his chair, fists in the air, tears streaming down his cheeks. "THAT'S MY GIRL!" he shouted again, voice cracking.

Chatty beside him was sobbing into a dumpling wrapper. "She's a celestial being! I'm emotionally compromised!"

Shi Min clapped with quiet pride. Shun and Ren exchanged a high-five.

El Padre bowed his head, whispering a prayer of protection.

Ling Li stood on the balcony, her silhouette framed by moonlight and the distant roar of the crowd. Her eyes never left the arena below, where Lily had just bowed to the world — a warrior cloaked in grace, no longer trembling, no longer hidden.

A single tear traced down Ling Li's cheek, silent and slow. It wasn't just pride. It was a memory. It was the echo of every sleepless night, every whispered prayer, every moment she had held Lily's hand through storms no one else had seen.

But her joy was tempered.

Because she felt it.

The air had shifted — subtly, darkly. A ripple in the qi. A whisper in the ether.

Solaris was watching.

Four Eyes stepped beside her, his presence grounding, his warmth steady. He didn't speak at first. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers with quiet certainty.

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