The shrine breathed.
Chu Feng realized this as soon as he passed the petrified torii gate. Each crack in its obsidian pillars exhaled memories—warm sighs of incense long extinct, death rattles swallowed by centuries of dust. The System's crimson warnings pulsed in time with his heartbeat:
[Ancient Host Site Detected: Tier IV Hazard]
[Recommendation: Immediate Withdrawal (Survival Rate: 31.7%)]
"Since when do you value my survival over data collection?" Chu Feng traced a glyph etched at eye-level. The carving bled under his touch, oozing black ichor that smelled of fermented regrets.
[Host 722's Terminal Log Available]
[Accessing...]
Entry 1: The First Harvest Moon
"Jiangcheng's wheat fields shimmer gold today. Little Mei found a rabbit in the stalks. She wants to keep it as—"
Entry 17: The Last Seed
"The System says one more tax collector. Just one more. Then the rains will come. Why won't Mei look at me anymore?"
The entries scrolled across Chu Feng's vision, each word burning hotter than the last. He stumbled past a fractured mural depicting a farmer's descent: scythes morphing into swords, sun hats into helmets, a daughter's embrace into ash.
The shrine's central chamber defied physics. Twelve stone stelae floated in a starless void, each tethered to the next by chains of crystallized tears. At the epicenter hovered the artifact—a sickle with a blade curved like a crescent moon gone feral.
[Artifact Analysis Complete]
[Designation: Reaper's Sickle (Host 722's Soul Anchor)
[Memory Imprint Density: 89 Traumatic Events/CM³]
"Don't." Chu Feng's hand froze inches from the grip. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere—a girl's whisper tinged with static. "Papa wasn't a monster. Not at first."
A shadow coalesced. Not a ghost, but a memory projection fraying at the edges. The child wore patched overalls, her left pigtail singed.
"Host 722's cognitive residue," the System intoned. [Classification: Non-Threatening]
The girl pointed to murals peeling into the void. "He tried to stop after the third harvest. But your voice kept whispering. One more season. One more life."
Chu Feng's tongue felt heavy with borrowed guilt. "I'm not—"
"You will be." Her form pixelated. "The System's hunger grows with each host. Papa lasted seventeen winters. How long will you—"
[Memory Corruption Detected. Purging...]
The child dissolved into screaming crows.
The stelae began rotating. Chains snapped as the chamber reconfigured into a kaleidoscope of Host 722's damnation:
Memory Shard 5-A: A barn burning with tax collectors inside.
Memory Shard 9-D: A daughter's grave overgrown with blighted wheat.
Memory Shard 17-F: The moment Host 722's hands became unrecognizable to his own soul.
"Survival protocol!" Chu Feng dove as a chain whip-cracked where his head had been. The System's navigation arrows conflicted—blue paths leading into fire, red ones toward collapsing floors.
[Combat Solution Updated]
[Step 1: Shatter Stele γ-7 to Disrupt Memory Matrix]
[Step 2: Harvest Sickle Within 8.3 Seconds]
[Step 3: Survive Neural Backlash (Probability: 14%)]
He moved on instinct. The dagger (stolen from Li Zichen's armory) found weaknesses even the System couldn't calculate. When steel met stone, the explosion of memories nearly broke him:
A child's laughter echoing through wheat.
A blade parting flesh like overripe fruit.
The exact moment a father became a weapon.
The sickle seared his palm upon contact. Chu Feng's scream harmonized with ten thousand dead hosts.
Back in the mortal realm, dawn stained the shrine's ruins bloody. The sickle in Chu Feng's grip had rusted overnight, but the real transformation lay beneath his skin. Veins of liquid onyx pulsed from wrist to elbow—Host 722's final gift.
[New Status: Soul Resonance (Tier I)
[Host Legacy Unlocked: Agricultural Empathy (Crop Growth +200%)]
[Corollary Effect: Soil Memory Absorption (Random Trauma Visions)
Ling'er found him retching beside blighted soil. "You look like hell's favorite chew toy."
"Feel worse." Chu Feng showed his corrupted arm. "The System didn't mention this part."
"Because it's scared." She pressed a phoenix feather to the black veins. "Every host leaves a stain. Collect enough..."
The feather ignited. When the flames died, his skin was clean—but the earth where ashes fell sprouted twisted wheat heads whispering in Host 722's voice.
[Soul Integrity: 97% → 94%]
[Hidden Parameter Revealed: Legacy Accumulation 1/7]
As they departed, the shrine's ruins shifted. A hooded figure emerged from the shadows, seven-pointed star glowing on its palm.
"Initiate contact?" it murmured to the wind.
"Not yet," replied a voice from the sickle's rust. "Let the seed take root deeper."