"Ugh—?"
'What is this smell? Blood? Damn… Is there really a dead body?'
Just when the coffin's lock clicked open, a thick stench of blood surged from its depths, saturating the air with a nauseating weight.
"Ugh!"
"Cough! Cough!" The metallic tang clung to Fang Rui's throat as the oppressive aura spread through the abandoned room, thickening the atmosphere and making every breath a struggle.
It felt as if an invisible hand had seized him by the very neck.
'F*ck… looks like I'm totally fcked now?'
'I should have known that curiosity kills the cat.'
Gasping, he dropped to his knees, fingers clawing at his throat in a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating force.
His vision flickered as the black pupil became totally white.
Then he saw—
A red moon hung low...
Before him stretched a battlefield drenched in carnage. That's right, he saw a sea of corpses piled high like macabre monuments.
'Where the hell am I?' Fang Rui was utterly baffled.
All he saw was—
At its center stood a lone figure—tall and imposing, radiating an aura of absolute dominance. The person wore a black mask, concealing his face, but his eyes burned with cold, unfeeling resolve.
However,
Why, when he saw this person, he felt a certain familiarity.
'Am I in some kind of illusion? How do I get away from here?'
Fang Rui tried, but he couldn't do anything except watch the scene.
Then time flew as the battlefield grew more intense.
Each swing of the weapon was effortless, fluid—like a painter's brushstroke across a canvas. And each technique was like art, something that couldn't be learned in just a few years. Yet the devastation it wrought was beyond comprehension.
'What the? What am I even seeing? Are they even human at this point?'
That's right, every person on the battlefield was more powerful than the so-called sect leader of the Niyanta Harmony Sect. No, they were more powerful than anyone he had seen until now.
Especially, the masked one. He moved like a force of nature itself, cutting down his enemies like a butcher… who, by any measure, should have been invincible in Fang Rui's eyes. They fought valiantly, their techniques dazzling, their power immense—but against that person, they were little more than rats challenging a dragon.
'That sword… Must be an Echo, right?'
Amid the slaughter, Fang Rui's gaze locked onto the Blade Sword, its name searing into his mind as though branded there: Loong Tai.
The battle raged on…
Hours, days… and weeks.
'Dyamnnn'
Until… silence.
"..."
What remained at last were the two figures standing amidst the wreckage.
Fang Rui could see that they were talking about something, but he couldn't comprehend anything at least.
'Looks like the final battle is about to happen...' Fang Rui thought inwardly.
The masked man, his white hair whipping wildly in the wind, stood atop a mountain of the fallen. Opposite him loomed a demonic entity—towering equally to the masked man, and twin horns could be seen curling from its skull, its very presence warping the air with raw, untamed power.
Moreover, both were wielding Echos, manifestations of their immeasurable strength. The ground beneath them was slick with blood and the remnants of shattered weapons, the earth itself trembling under their combined pressure.
Loong Tai pulsed with a dark, malevolent energy, whispering of annihilation, of the end of all things. The demon's Echos, in contrast, thrummed with a chaos energy, primal hunger—not just for destruction, but for absolute supremacy.
'What are they even made of?' Fang Rui's breath caught in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, syncing with the rhythmic, almost hypnotic resonance of the clashing Echos. The tension was unbearable, threatening to crush his very soul, even though he was not physically present.
In this carnage, the corpses around them seemed insignificant, mere footnotes in a battle that defied mortal comprehension.
'Can I be this strong?' A desire rose from the very him, as if he was seeing himself in that clash of destruction.
And then—
BOOM!
A cataclysmic explosion of power erupted as the two forces collided.
'Damnn it… My eyes'
Reality itself seemed to fracture, light and darkness twisting into a maelstrom of destruction.
Then—
Fang Rui's vision shattered into fragments of color and shadow as his consciousness got yanked violently towards the reality — at the present moment.
Agony— like a thousands of thousand ants biting—seared through him. The pain made him feel as though every fiber of his being was being torn apart, rewritten, reforged by an unseen, merciless hand.
"ARGHHH!" His scream was raw and guttural.
***
Outside the house,
"What's going on in that house? Is someone dying a dog-like death? Tsk, can't even have a peaceful day," A person complained.
In response to that person, another person said nonchalantly as if it was nothing new, " Don't care about that bastard, he must be crying because of the shit-life he had"
"Really? Who is that person? Can you tell me?"
"Ahh… he is nothing but a worthless, piece of shit… It's better not to talk about him."
***
[Ding!]
[Awakening of the Fragment of the Fallen Absolute Being has commenced.]
However, Fang Rui couldn't hear or even think because of the intense painful session.
Then—change.
That's right, some changes commenced within him.
His black hair bleached into snow-white strands, shimmering with an ethereal glow. His once-dark eyes ignited into twin pools of crimson fire, burning with an intensity that could pierce the heavens. His features sharpened, his entire visage transforming as though sculpted by divine hands.
But pain? It got doubled up.
"Ahhhhh!"
He rolled down on the floor here and there.
[Awakening completed.]
[Some changes occurred to the system panel. For further information, check it out there.]
"Cough, Cough…"
'What changes?'
Sour saliva dripped from Fang Rui's lips as he clutched his chest, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum.
Thump. Thump.
Each thunderous beat sent jolts of pain through his body, anchoring him to the waking world even as his mind reeled from the visions that had assaulted him.
"Haa… Haaa… What the hell was that?" His voice was ragged, barely sounding more than a whisper.
The scenes of absolute carnage, the masked man wielding Loong Tai, giving him some familiarity and the demonic entity, who was radiating with immense demonic power—none of it made any sense.
It had felt too real, too visceral, as if the memories had been carved into his very soul.
'Memory? But whose?'
'Focus. Focus, or I'll lose myself completely.'
But another sensation clawed at him, more disturbing than the visions—a gnawing, insatiable craving. His throat burned. His fingers twitched. His pulse roared in his ears like a beast demanding release.
Blood.
He wanted—no, he needed—to spill it. To feel its warmth on his skin, to hear the choked gasps of his enemies as life fled their bodies. The urge was so sudden, so violent, that his breath hitched in shock.
"Insane…" he muttered.
Slap!
He slapped himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the madness.
Yet the longer he resisted, the more the hunger festered. And with it came another, more familiar fire—rage.
The past memories surged unbidden: the pain he got from the Niyanta Harmony Sect disciples, the sneers from the public, the way they had discarded him like filth. His fingers dug into his palms until crescents of blood welled beneath his nails. The whites of his eyes darkened as thin red veins spiderwebbed across his sclera, painting his gaze in a feverish crimson.
Especially, the Lu Clan.
"I need power… I need power!" The words spilled from his lips in a guttural growl. "Damn you, Lu Gaolin! Damn your entire clan! Just wait—I won't let any of you escape!"
Teeth gritted, he turned his fury toward the coffin's sealed lid. Decades of neglect had fused it shut, the weight of time pressing down like a mountain. In his weakened state—his cultivation crippled, his body battered—it should have been impossible.
But the Origin Body thrummed within him, its latent strength answering his desperation.
"Ahhhh! OPEN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"
Muscles screamed. Bones threatened to splinter. Yet with a final, primal roar, the seal broke—CRACK!—and the lid groaned aside, releasing a gust of stale, metallic air.
"Hah… Haa…" Fang Rui collapsed forward, his breaths shallow and uneven.
Inside the coffin lay no corpse, no decaying remains. Instead, two objects could be seen resting there.
A sword.A cultivation manual.
'What the hell, where is the corpse now?'
'Oh, so this is an inheritance?'
His gaze locked onto the weapon first. It was unlike anything he'd seen before—yet eerily reminiscent of the Blade Sword from his vision. But where Loong Tai had been a weapon of slaughter, this blade exuded something… different.
Yeah, totally different.
Especially the engraved rune on its surface.
"Tang Dao"
He could see the word.
'Must be… this is its name'
"Is this… one of their weapons?" he murmured, reaching for it.
The moment his fingers brushed the hilt—
ZZZT!
A jolt of energy seared through him, white-hot and paralyzing. The sword clattered to the ground, vibrating against the stone floor as if laughing at his weakness.
"What the hell was that?!"
Cautiously, he crouched and reached for it again. This time, no shock came—but the moment he gripped it fully, he felt it.
A whisper in his mind.
A thirst.
The blade was forged from a metal so dark it devoured the light. Not a speck of rust marred its surface, despite the ages it must have lain dormant. The edge curved like a crescent moon, sharp enough to split a hair midair. And the aura it emitted—it pulsed.
Fang Rui's breath caught. The sword wasn't just a tool. It was alive with desire.
The blade hummed softly, its hunger mirroring his own. It had tasted his blood when he'd first touched it. Now, it wanted more.
A soul-bound weapon.
Swallowing hard, Fang Rui turned to the manual. But before he could even lift it—
WHOOSH!
The book flew at him, striking his forehead before dissolving into motes of golden light.
[Cultivation Manual: Origin: Sole Path (Heaven High-Tier) Acquired.]
[Progress: 0%]
[Requires: 1000 Emotion Points to unlock instantly.]
Heaven High-Tier?!
His hands trembled. In the Niyanta Equality Sect, the highest rank he'd known was Sky Tier—a realm reserved for patriarchs and legends. Heaven Tier was myth, a realm beyond mortal comprehension.
And this manual was High-Tier within that classification.
A manic grin split his lips. "Points. All I need is points."
But then—an idea.
So reckless, so deranged, that anyone witnessing his expression would've thought him possessed.
If they knew what he was planning… they'd kill him for the thought alone.