The scent of decay clung to the air like rot clinging to bone.
Xiao Ren stepped deeper into the tomb; the only sound echoing through the ancient corridor was the slow crunch of his boots over gravel and ash. The glow from his spirit lantern barely pushed back the black fog that drifted across the cracked stone floor. Strange glyphs covered the walls—etched in blood-coloured jade, pulsing faintly with a sickly hue. The corridor seemed to spiral downward endlessly, each step colder than the last.
He pressed his palm against the damp stone wall for balance. It trembled faintly, like something deeper within the tomb was breathing.
He swallowed. Hard."No going back now."
The True Dao System remained silent. Not even a whisper in the back of his mind. Ever since it appeared, it spoke only when necessary. Even now, in the bowels of this forgotten ruin, it left him to decide—to push forward or turn and flee.
But there was nowhere else for him to go.
He tightened his grip on the lantern. The soft flame flickered as if reacting to his pulse.
At the corridor's end, the stone opened into a wide, sunken chamber. The ceiling arched high overhead, supported by crumbling obsidian pillars shaped like kneeling warriors. Massive chains hung from the rafters, their ends sunken into the ground like they once held something down.
Xiao Ren stepped into the chamber—And the lantern extinguished.
"Damn—"
Whhooooooooom...
The air grew heavy. The glyphs across the walls flared red like dying coals. Cold wind rushed through the chamber from nowhere and everywhere. Then—
They came.
Wraiths. Silent, hollow-eyed figures draped in rotted burial cloth and rusted armour. Five. Then eight. Then twelve. All drifting forward without a sound, as if they had been waiting… waiting for someone with a soul that reeked of heaven-defiance.
Xiao Ren instinctively reached for his sword.
Too slow.
The first specter lunged—A blur of mist and bone.He barely dodged, stumbling back into one of the kneeling pillars. A second wraith came at him from the left, claws outstretched. It slashed—Pain exploded across his side as its ethereal claws tore through his robes and bit into his flesh.
"Argh—!"
He fell to a knee, blood soaking through his side.
System message:
[Warning: Host body damage exceeds 34%. Activation threshold met. Initiating Passive Combat Aid.]
A pulse.A crackle of thunder deep within his dantian.
His eyes widened as lightning surged through his meridians—wild, unstable. The True Dao System overclocked his qi pathways without warning. His skin glowed faintly with violet runes.
Then he moved.
The next spectre lunged—he spun, drawing his sword in a single arc. A line of violet thunder split the air. The ghost screamed as it evaporated mid-strike.
Another came. He ducked under its claw and jabbed his palm forward, lightning bursting from his fingers like whips. He didn't know the technique—it had no name—but his instincts guided him.
He wasn't fighting like a sect disciple. He was fighting like a wild beast trying to survive.
Each strike burnt. The feedback from raw, unshaped qi tore at his nerves. But the ghosts died one by one. Smoke and cold ash replaced their forms. His breath came in gasps. The floor was slick with blood—his and theirs.
Finally, silence.
Only one wraith remained. Larger than the others. Taller than a man, its face hidden beneath a shattered bronze mask, its body wrapped in talismans long faded to yellow-grey.
It spoke.
Or rather—it echoed.
"You… are not him… and yet… you carry his mark…"
Xiao Ren didn't reply. He could barely stand.
The spectre tilted its head.
"I was the general of the Dao-Splitters. I died beneath nine heavens. I guard this place… until the last heir returns."
It paused. Its eyes—dead lights—glowed brighter.
"You are broken. But so was he."
Then it struck.
A flash of speed. Xiao Ren didn't have time to lift his sword. The spirit rammed a palm into his chest. Instead of pain, he felt… warmth.
The ghost wasn't attacking. It was giving.
A flood of foreign qi surged into him. Ancient, crackling with thunder and layered like a thousand years of cultivation pressed into one moment. His body convulsed. Bones ached. Muscles trembled. He collapsed again.
Above him, the ghost began to fade, piece by piece.
"Prove… that he did not die in vain…"
Its voice broke apart like ash scattered by wind. And then it was gone.
Silence returned to the tomb.
Time lost all meaning. Xiao Ren lay still, chest heaving.
System prompt:
[New Technique Obtained: Body Tempering Art – Nine Thunder Veins]Rank: UnknownOrigin: Dao-Splitter EraEffect: Temporarily reforges damaged meridians with thunder-attributed qi. Painful and unstable. Incompatible with orthodox cultivation methods.Note: Use at your own risk.
He groaned, turning onto his side.
"Just what kind of path is this…"
His fingers brushed the stone floor, still warm from the battle. He clenched them into a fist.
This was power. Brutal, ugly, painful power. It didn't come from cultivation scrolls. It didn't come from gentle guidance or righteous paths. It came from clawing survival out of death's jaws.
He would not forget that.
A flicker of movement caught his attention.
From the corridor behind him, footsteps echoed softly. Light approached—a lantern dimmer than his own. Then a figure emerged from the shadows, robes grey like drifting clouds, eyes sharp and unreadable.
It was her again.
The girl from earlier. The one who had watched him in the tomb's entrance.
She said nothing as she stepped into the bloodied chamber, eyes scanning the aftermath.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"You're still alive. I'll admit, I didn't think you'd last ten breaths."
Xiao Ren tried to rise but groaned, hand pressed to his side.
The girl walked forward and tossed something toward him—a small vial of jade-green liquid.
"Drink it. I don't want to drag your corpse when the tomb collapses."
"...Thanks," he muttered.
He uncorked the vial and downed it. A bitter taste coated his tongue, but warmth spread through his core.
He looked up at her.
"You were watching."
"I was," she replied easily. "Didn't plan to interfere. But then again, you're more interesting than the others."
"Others?"
She smiled faintly.
"They're all dead now."