The stench of rot and damp moss filled the ravine.
Rain trickled from the jagged cliffs above, pooling around the small, motionless figure curled in the mud. His clothes were mere rags—if they could even be called that—and his limbs bore countless scars, old and new. His skin was pale, almost translucent, as though death had claimed him long ago.
But then… he moved.
Just slightly. A shallow breath. A twitch of his fingers.
The boy's eyelids fluttered open.
In that instant, the world seemed to still.
His gaze, though clouded with weakness, was unnaturally deep. Eyes that should've belonged to someone newly born now shimmered with unfathomable age. As if they had witnessed millennia… and perished with them.
He was not Lin Xuan.
And yet—he was.
"…Where… am I?"
His voice was hoarse, barely audible, but it echoed faintly across the stone walls.
Pain wracked his body. Every bone felt fractured, every vein sluggish. It was as if his soul had been sewn back together with broken threads.
He clutched his chest.
The place where he'd exploded… where the Forsaken Divine Body had awakened.
But there was nothing. No golden marrow.
No divine pulse.
Just silence.
Or so it seemed.
Drip… drip…
Somewhere beneath his skin, something stirred.
It was faint—like the beating of a distant drum, hidden beneath layers of ash.
Then came the voice.
Not a whisper. Not a thunderclap. Just… presence.
[Cycle Engraving… Complete.]
[Essence Stabilization Phase: Initiated.]
[Vitality: 6%]
[Divine Body Integrity: Fragmented – Recovery Possible]
[Heaven-Defying Sequence… Recalibrating]
[Caution: World Origin Seal Detected.]
"…You're still here," he murmured. "You… followed me."
No system. No guiding light. Just the ancient mechanism woven into his very bones—the Cycle Engraving.
It had survived.
But barely.
Suddenly, a noise echoed nearby—twigs cracking.
The boy jerked his head up.
A creature emerged from the underbrush—twice the size of a wolf, with obsidian fur and burning red eyes. Its fangs glistened with saliva, and its claws scraped the stones as it approached.
A Bone-Maw Beast.
Low-level. Savage. But in his current state—even a mortal child might best him.
The beast growled, pacing in a circle. It smelled blood. Weakness.
Dinner.
The boy gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. His knees trembled. His vision blurred.
You won't die again.
Not like this.
The beast lunged.
He moved purely on instinct.
A hand raised. A flicker of light pulsed from his palm—so faint it was nearly invisible. The next instant—
CRACK!
The Bone-Maw crashed into an unseen wall, yelping in pain.
The boy stumbled back, gasping.
There, on the ground, faintly glowing beneath his feet—a seal had formed.
Circular. Ancient. Etched in silver-blue flame.
Not drawn.
Branded.
The boy stared, dumbfounded.
"…A formation? I didn't… cast anything…"
But the truth was clear: his soul remembered what his body did not.
He had been a cultivator at the peak of the world. A bearer of forbidden might. Now, even if he had to start from ashes—those embers had not died.
The beast whimpered and fled.
Silence returned. The boy collapsed to one knee, panting.
But his eyes—those eyes—began to glow faintly.
He looked to the sky. No sun. Only clouds and distant thunder.
But somewhere above… he knew they watched.
The clan.
The heavens.
Fate.
All who cast him aside.
"…Wait and see," he whispered.
"I'll make this dirt tremble."