"Cultivation is the process of aligning the Dao with the body.But what if the body is denied the right to hold the Dao?Then that person… shall forge a Dao from rejection itself."
Ashes still lingered—within a body thought ruined
Deep within a cold, lightless cavern beneath the Frozen Bone Spring,Lâm Mạc sat cross-legged, motionless.
His chest bore ragged wounds.His Heart Palace had shattered.His spiritual root had been erased by the Dao Erasure Decree.
Around him, not a single wisp of Spiritual Energy stirred.
But—within his blood, something else had begun to coalesce.
The blood-ash in his veins slowly turned, condensing into a single drop of dark-gray essence—the form of an incomplete Dao sigil.
He had no spiritual root.Could sense no Spiritual Energy.Could not gather soul force.
But—
"I still have… my will and my blood."
He opened his eyes—within them, not the brilliance of the heavens, but a vortex of ruin born from within.
Drawing from the remnants of the Scorched Heaven Dao Codex,Lâm Mạc did what no cultivator had dared—he used blood-essence in place of spiritual force,willpower in place of incantations,and pain itself in place of divine resonance.
"If the Dao refuses to accept me,Then every cell of my being… shall become the foundation of a new Dao."
Smoke rose from his body—not from burning Spiritual Energy,but from burning blood-ash to temper his marrow.
"Ash gives birth to Dao's End.""From Dao's End… I am reborn."
A dark-gray spiral formed at his Dantian.No spiritual force.Only what he called: "Willborne Blood Essence"—energy born from extreme mental pressure and refusal to break.
When his will reached the limit, his blood transformed on its own.
This was a state that:
Could not be measured by any artifact,
Was unaffected by spiritual or arcane realms,
And… could not be foretold by prophecy.
Behind him, a faint silhouette began to form—a battle soul forged of ash, hazy as smoke, invisible to the common eye.
It held no fixed cultivation.Wielded no techniques.
Yet—when a divine pressure from an upper realm probed the land,the phantom soul instantly repelled it.
"Is it… the future self I've yet to become?""Or something even Heaven itself dares not touch?"
Far beneath the Primordial Abyssal Sea,within a sealed palace lost to time,a hooded figure raised his head to the northern skies:
"A man without a spiritual root… has entered the Dao."
"This… was never written in any divination."
"Summon the Celestial Envoys.""He must not be allowed to mature."
Back within the cavern, Lâm Mạc rose to his feet.
The Ash Veins within him still churned unstably.But he understood—this was the first step on a path without precedent.
Now…he must choose his next direction.
Before him, three ancient relic sites appeared—only one could be opened:
The Hollow Ravine – where hundreds of thousands of rebellious cultivators' remains lay buried.
Sea of No Thought – a dead sea that once sealed away the will of a world-ending god clan.
Phantom Peak Temple – a place where all who enter confront their own reflection… twisted beyond recognition.
He whispered softly:
"I won't follow anyone's footsteps.""I choose the path… that no one has dared to tread."