Feng Xiao gasped as the light from the pearl engulfed him, drowning out the shadows of the Valley in a tidal wave of brilliance. His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his knees, clutching the glowing sphere in his trembling hands. Energy surged through his body, wild and unrelenting, like a raging river trying to carve new channels through his veins.
Pain exploded in his chest, radiating outward to every corner of his body. It wasn't the sharp sting of a blade or the dull ache of a bruise—it was deeper, something primal, as though the energy within him was being unraveled and reformed at the same time. He screamed, his voice lost in the roar of the pearl's light, but no one was there to hear him.
For a moment, he thought he would die. The energy inside him felt too vast, too alien to contain. It was like trying to hold the weight of a mountain on his shoulders. But just as the pain reached its peak, it began to recede, the raging storm in his body giving way to a strange, almost soothing hum. The light dimmed, and the world around him slowly came back into focus.
Feng Xiao slumped forward, his forehead resting against the cold, uneven ground. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one burning his lungs. The pearl still rested in his hands, its surface cool and smooth, as though it hadn't just unleashed a torrent of energy that had nearly torn him apart. Its glow had faded slightly, now no brighter than a faint ember, but it pulsed softly, as if alive.
"What... what are you?" Feng Xiao whispered, his voice hoarse.
The pearl didn't answer, of course. But the whispers he had heard earlier—the faint, melodic hum that had guided him to this clearing—were gone. In their place was a strange stillness, as though the Valley itself was holding its breath.
Slowly, painfully, Feng Xiao forced himself to sit up. His body ached, and his hands were raw and bleeding from climbing through the scrap piles. But as he inspected himself, he noticed something strange: the pain in his chest, the deep, hollow ache that had lingered since his cultivation base was destroyed, was... gone. In its place was a faint warmth, like the flicker of a candle in a dark room.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward with his senses. Where his dantian had once been an empty, shattered void, he now felt a small, flickering presence. It was faint—barely more than a spark—but it was there. A tiny ember of spiritual energy, pulsing in time with the pearl's faint glow.
For the first time since his exile, Feng Xiao felt a glimmer of hope.
The moment didn't last long.
A low growl echoed through the clearing, snapping Feng Xiao back to reality. His eyes darted toward the source of the sound, and his breath caught in his throat.
A Trash Spirit loomed at the edge of the clearing, its twisted form barely distinguishable from the scrap piles that surrounded it. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of broken swords, shattered shields, and jagged metal shards, all fused together by a pulsing black ooze that dripped from its joints. Two pinpricks of red light glowed where its eyes should have been, staring directly at Feng Xiao with a hunger that made his skin crawl.
The creature stepped forward, its movements jerky and unnatural, like a puppet being yanked by invisible strings. Each step sent a grinding screech through the air as metal scraped against metal.
Feng Xiao's heart pounded in his chest. He scrambled backward, clutching the pearl tightly in his hand. He had heard stories about Trash Spirits—malevolent entities formed from the discarded spiritual energy and broken artifacts that littered the Valley. They were mindless, driven only by an insatiable desire to consume anything that crossed their path.
And now one of them was staring at him like he was its next meal.
The creature lunged.
Feng Xiao barely had time to roll out of the way as the Trash Spirit's clawed hand slammed into the ground where he had been sitting, sending shards of metal flying in every direction. He scrambled to his feet, his pulse hammering in his ears. His eyes darted around the clearing, searching desperately for something—anything—that he could use as a weapon.
His gaze landed on a broken blade sticking out of the ground nearby. Without thinking, he sprinted toward it, ignoring the jagged shards of glass and metal that tore at his feet. He grabbed the blade and turned just in time to see the Trash Spirit charging at him again.
He swung the blade with all his strength.
The weapon struck the creature's arm, but instead of cutting through, it shattered on impact, the brittle metal crumbling to dust. Feng Xiao stumbled backward, his stomach sinking as the creature advanced on him, seemingly unfazed.
The pearl in his hand pulsed.
A sudden warmth spread through Feng Xiao's palm, and he looked down to see the pearl glowing brighter, its light spilling over the broken remains of the blade. Before his eyes, the fragments began to shift, drawn together by an unseen force. The pieces fused, the cracks sealing themselves until the blade was whole once more.
But it wasn't the same. The newly restored weapon gleamed with an otherworldly light, its surface etched with faint, glowing runes. It felt alive, resonating with the pearl's energy as though the two were connected.
The Trash Spirit roared and lunged again, its clawed hand slashing toward Feng Xiao's chest. He didn't think—he just moved. The blade in his hand sang as it met the creature's attack, and this time, the weapon didn't shatter. It sliced cleanly through the Trash Spirit's arm, severing it at the joint.
The creature howled, black ooze spurting from the wound like blood. It stumbled back, its red eyes flickering erratically. Feng Xiao didn't give it a chance to recover. He surged forward, the blade glowing brighter with each step, and drove it into the creature's chest.
The Trash Spirit convulsed, its body spasming as cracks spread across its surface. With a final, ear-piercing screech, it exploded into a cloud of black mist, leaving behind only a pile of inert scrap metal.
Feng Xiao collapsed to his knees, the blade slipping from his trembling hands. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and his entire body ached as though he had run a marathon. But he was alive. Somehow, he had survived.
The pearl pulsed again, and Feng Xiao looked down to see it glowing faintly in his palm. The warmth it radiated felt almost... comforting, as though it was reassuring him. He stared at it for a long moment, his mind racing.
Hours later, Feng Xiao sat in the ruins of an ancient structure, cradling the pearl in his hands. The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the Valley shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the pearl and the distant flickers of corrupted energy that dotted the wasteland.
His mind was a whirlwind of questions. What was this pearl? Why had it called to him? And how had it restored the blade he had used to defeat the Trash Spirit? The energy it had given him was unlike anything he had felt before—wild, raw, and... different.
He glanced at the restored blade resting beside him, its runes still faintly glowing. The weapon was proof that the pearl's power was real. But it was also a reminder of the cost. The battle with the Trash Spirit had nearly killed him, and he knew there would be more to come. The Valley wasn't going to let him go so easily.
Feng Xiao clenched his fists, his gaze hardening. The Heavenly Dawn Sect had thrown him away, discarded him like trash. But here, in this cursed wasteland, he had found something—something that could help him reclaim what he had lost. No, more than that. Something that could make him stronger than ever before.
They had called him trash. Fine. He would start as trash. But he would rise. And when he did, they would all regret the day they cast him aside.
The pearl pulsed again, as though in agreement.