The dim candlelight flickered, casting long, wavering shadows across the cramped room. Xian Ye sat in silence, his breathing steady, his thoughts turbulent. The weight of his reincarnation pressed upon him, but it did not crush him. No—he had already accepted the cruel fate bestowed upon him.
But acceptance did not mean submission.
The embers of hatred smoldered within him, refusing to die. He had been wronged, stripped of everything, yet given another chance. He would not waste it.
Xian Ye clenched his frail hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms. He was weak now, a mere shadow of the being he once was. But strength… strength was something that could be reclaimed.
A dull, aching sensation coiled in his chest. It wasn't pain—it was something else. A whisper. A call.
His body trembled as the sensation intensified, pulling at his very soul. His breath hitched. This was not Qi. This was something far more sinister, something that pulsed with an ancient hunger. It was as if the abyss itself had reached out to him, beckoning him closer.
His mind reeled as flashes of memories surfaced—ones that did not belong to this body, nor to his past life. Visions of darkness, of something lurking beneath the fabric of reality, a power that defied the very heavens.
And it was waiting for him.
He sucked in a sharp breath. No, this was not some delusion. This was real.
Gritting his teeth, Xian Ye focused. He could feel the source of this power—deep within, tangled within his soul. It was dormant, waiting to be awakened. He did not question it. He did not hesitate.
He reached inward, grasping at the slumbering force.
A shudder ran through his entire being.
The moment his mind made contact, something inside him cracked open, like a floodgate releasing a tide of darkness. His veins burned with an unbearable cold, his body convulsing as if trying to reject the presence invading it.
The whispers became voices.
They spoke in tongues he could not understand, yet their intent was clear. They were ancient. Older than the heavens. Older than the gods. And they had chosen him.
His vision blurred, his surroundings faded. He felt himself slipping, falling into an endless abyss. But instead of fear, a twisted exhilaration surged through him. This was power unlike anything he had known.
The world around him shattered.
And then, silence.
Xian Ye collapsed, gasping for breath, sweat dripping from his forehead. His entire body screamed in protest, but amidst the pain, he felt something new. A presence. A connection.
He was no longer alone.
As his vision steadied, he felt it—his first step towards ascension. Towards vengeance.
The heavens had abandoned him.
But the abyss had embraced him.
And he would carve his path with its power.