Night fell over the wilderness.
The ravine, already cold and desolate, now seemed to vanish beneath the thick veil of mist that crept over stone and root. Trees loomed like ancient sentinels, and in the distance, the howls of spirit beasts echoed with hunger.
The boy—Lin Xuan—sat motionless within a hollow crevice beneath a dead tree. His breath was shallow, but his eyes burned with quiet clarity.
[Vitality: 7.4%]
[Internal Meridians: Incomplete – Reconstruction Possible]
[Cycle Engraving: Stabilized]
[Condition: Primitive Rebirth Phase – Latent Potential Hidden]
His thoughts turned inward.
His body, though frail, still carried the foundation of the Heaven-Defying Bloodline—even if it was sealed, fragmented, and forgotten by the world.
The formation that had manifested earlier… hadn't come from memory.
It had come from instinct.
"…My soul remembers the path," he muttered, touching his chest. "Even if the world forgets me… I will reclaim it all."
His stomach growled.
Spiritual determination was one thing—survival was another.
He hadn't eaten in days.
He had no tools, no cultivation base, no energy stones or pills. Just bare hands and a ravaged body. Even low-ranked spirit beasts would tear him apart in this state.
But just as he gritted his teeth and prepared to rise, a faint rustle stirred the mist.
A presence.
It didn't feel hostile. But it wasn't weak either.
"Who's there?" Lin Xuan asked, voice low.
No answer.
Then
tap... tap... tap...
Footsteps echoed across stone. From the far side of the ravine, a figure emerged.
An old man.
Long, matted grey hair. A crooked back. Clothes more patchwork than robe. But his eyes—sunken behind wrinkled lids—were sharp. Too sharp.
And on his back, he carried… a coffin.
Bound in iron chains.
"Boy," the old man rasped, his voice like sandpaper. "You shouldn't be alive."
Lin Xuan narrowed his eyes. "And you shouldn't be here."
The old man cackled. "Hah! Fair."
He looked the boy up and down.
"Barely breathing… broken meridians… but your eyes—yes, your eyes. I've seen that light once before. A long time ago."
He stepped closer, resting his coffin beside him.
"You're not normal. Not anymore."
Lin Xuan stayed silent.
He had no idea who this man was. Hermit? Cultivator? Madman?
The coffin chained to his back reeked of decay… and something else. Something… ancient.
"I'll ask once," the old man said, his tone suddenly serious. "Do you wish to die a beast... or rise again as a god?"
The words struck deep.
Not a threat.
A choice.
Lin Xuan met the old man's gaze. "I've already died once. This time, I'll burn the heavens if I must."
The old man smiled. A slow, toothless grin.
"…Good."
He extended a hand.
"Come then, child of ashes. The world has forgotten your name—but the old ways haven't. I'll teach you how to crawl again… until you're ready to run."
Lin Xuan hesitated only a moment—then grasped the hand.
And in that moment, the mist parted.
A new path unfolded.