The burial grounds were silent.
The silence here was different from the quiet of the sect's courtyards or meditation halls. This was a silence born of endings—where breath and blood had stopped long ago. Even the wind seemed to hush as it passed, carrying the faint stench of rusted weapons and soil steeped in forgotten battles.
Moonlight poured across rows of uneven graves and shattered markers, painting the world in silver and shadow.
And in that cold stillness, the skeleton that had clawed its way from the soil stood before Lin Tian. Dust drifted from its joints with every subtle motion, bones pale as bleached jade. Its empty sockets glowed faintly under the moon—not with fire, but with a quiet obedience that sent chills racing down Lin Tian's spine.
His throat tightened. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to flee into the night. This was wrong, unholy. The dead should remain buried.
Yet when the skeleton bent its knees and lowered its skull in a bow, something fierce stirred within him.
Fear warred with awe. Terror clashed with something he had not felt in years—hope.
For fifteen years, he had been powerless. Spiritless. Mocked as a waste of rice. Now, here in the place of taboo, the dead themselves bowed to him.
His voice trembled as he forced out the words.
"…Raise your hand."
The skeleton obeyed. Its arm rose stiffly, bones creaking like old branches.
"…Step forward."
The clatter of bone against stone echoed through the graves. A pale foot pressed into the soil, and the thing walked.
Lin Tian staggered back, a hand pressed to his chest. His dantian pulsed. Not empty. Not hollow. Something flowed there at last—qi, but unlike any he had imagined. Heavy. Cold. Yet intoxicating.
A laugh tore from his throat, sharp and ragged. "It listens… it truly listens…"
The skeleton knelt again, lowering itself with jerky grace. A gesture of loyalty. A gesture that said, wordlessly: I obey.
Lin Tian's eyes burned. His whisper trembled between despair and hunger.
"The living mocked me… but the dead… the dead obey."
---
The rest of the night passed in fevered trial.
"Strike!"
The skeleton's fist slammed into a gravestone. Stone cracked, shards scattering into the dirt.
"Defend."
It raised its arms across its chest, body stiff but unyielding.
"Follow."
It copied his steps, clattering awkwardly behind him, each footfall echoing his heartbeat.
Lin Tian pushed harder. "Jump."
The skeleton leapt. Bones rattled on impact, but it landed whole.
Each command tugged at the strange thread of will that bound them. Each act sent cold qi pouring into Lin Tian's veins, strengthening him. His muscles no longer shook with weakness. His mind no longer felt hollow.
Yet fear lingered beneath the exhilaration. What if it turned on him? What if it was no servant, but a curse wearing the shape of loyalty?
But whenever doubt sharpened into suspicion, the sockets flared faintly, waiting only for his intent. Waiting only for his command.
By dawn, Lin Tian collapsed against a mound of earth, chest heaving, robe damp with sweat. The skeleton stood motionless at his side, like a sentinel carved from pale stone.
Exhaustion pressed down, but sleep came sweetly for the first time in his life. Not with despair, but with hunger for what might come next.
---
The following night, footsteps shattered the stillness.
"…Check deeper in. The elders want every corner searched."
Lin Tian's eyes snapped open. His skeleton straightened silently beside him, ready at a thought.
Lanterns bobbed between the graves. Two disciples in sect robes approached, laughter echoing too loudly in this land of the dead.
"Zhao Wu really went too far yesterday," one said with a grin. "Throwing him in here like garbage? Bold."
"Spiritless trash," the other sneered. "By now the dogs must've picked his bones clean. At least then he'd be useful for something."
Lin Tian's fists clenched until his nails split his palms. Always mockery. Always scorn. Yesterday, they had been right—he had been powerless.
But tonight…
The lantern light revealed him. Their sneers widened, as though fate had delivered them entertainment.
"Well, well. Look who survived." One drew a short blade, its edge catching orange against the flame. "The elders didn't say we couldn't kill him. Who would know?"
"We'll say the corpses dragged him down," the other chuckled. "Ghosts, ghouls—dead is dead."
They stepped closer, eager for cruelty.
Lin Tian raised his chin. His voice was calm. "…Now."
The skeleton lunged.
The clash rang sharp as a struck bell. Bone slammed against steel. Sparks scattered across the night. The disciple's smirk faltered.
"What—what is this!?"
The skeleton's grip locked around his wrist. The boy screamed, twisting, but the bones ground tighter. Its other hand snapped to his throat.
Lin Tian's eyes were cold. He lifted his hand like a judge pronouncing sentence.
"Break."
A sickening crack split the night. The boy's body sagged. His lantern hit the ground, flame sputtering out with a hiss.
The second disciple stumbled back, face pale as moonlight.
"Y-you… you're using taboo arts—!"
Lin Tian stepped forward. The corpse qi inside him surged eagerly, like a beast scenting blood.
"Taboo?" His lips curled. "Then let the world call me taboo."
The skeleton dropped the corpse. Black qi rose like smoke, curling into Lin Tian's chest. His dantian flared faint silver. His limbs steadied. His breath came sharp and strong.
The boy scrambled backward, voice breaking. "Stay away—!"
Lin Tian's gaze cut through him. His command was a blade.
"Rise."
The body twitched. Fingers clawed dirt. Limbs jerked like puppets pulled by unseen strings. Skin blanched. Hollow eyes snapped open—soulless, waiting.
The boy who had mocked him seconds ago stood once more, blade in hand, obedient and silent.
The second disciple screamed. He swung wildly.
The corpse lunged. Steel tore flesh. Blood spattered the graves. The scream ended in a wet gurgle.
Silence returned.
Now two bodies knelt—one bone, one flesh. Both bowed to Lin Tian.
The qi of death streamed into him again, inexhaustible and cold. His muscles hardened, his senses sharpened. His eyes glimmered faintly silver in the moonlight.
He exhaled, breath misting in the night. His smile was thin, dangerous.
"For fifteen years, I was nothing. Spiritless. Trash. But with every corpse, my strength grows. With every death… my army swells."
His gaze turned toward the faint glow of sect lanterns in the distance.
"They called me trash," he murmured. "Soon… they will call me Lord."
The burial grounds whispered with rattling bones, as if the dead themselves laughed in agreement.
And in that forsaken night, Lin Tian took his first true step—not as a boy without roots, not as a servant of Bonecloud Sect.
But as something else.
Something the world would learn to fear.
---