Xu Yan lay motionless long after the dragon vanished.
The ruins were silent again, but it was not a peaceful silence. It was the kind that pressed against the ears, thick and watchful, as though the world itself were holding its breath.
He stared at the sky.
No—the sky.
It was wrong in ways that were difficult to articulate. Too deep. Too layered. Clouds drifted at different altitudes, yet some did not drift at all, frozen in place as though pinned by invisible forces. Bands of light—like auroras, but sharper, more defined—flowed across the heavens in slow, deliberate currents.
Xu Yan swallowed.
His heart was still racing, but the immediate terror had dulled into something colder and more dangerous: awareness.
He pushed himself up on trembling arms and sat back on his heels, ignoring the ache in his muscles. His body responded sluggishly, unfamiliar in a way that made his skin crawl. When he clenched his hands into fists, the motion felt both natural and alien, as though he were wearing someone else's limbs.
He raised his hands in front of his face.
They were not the hands he remembered.
The fingers were longer, leaner, marked with faint calluses that spoke of labor he had never done. His skin tone was slightly darker, healthier. When he flexed, veins shifted beneath the surface, pulsing faintly with warmth.
Xu Yan's breathing quickened.
"No…" he whispered hoarsely.
His voice sounded younger. Stronger.
He scrambled to his feet and nearly fell as dizziness swept over him. The ruins spun briefly before settling, and he steadied himself against a broken stone pillar etched with symbols he could not read—but somehow understood the intent of.
These were not decorative.
They were functional.
A shiver ran through him.
This isn't a dream.
Dreams did not carry this weight. This clarity. This oppressive sense of scale.
Xu Yan closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. Panic would kill him faster than any beast in an unfamiliar world.
Assess. Survive. Adapt.
He opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings properly.
The ruins stretched outward in uneven rings, as if something catastrophic had occurred long ago—an explosion, perhaps, or a collapse of power beyond human scale. Stone structures lay shattered, their remnants half-swallowed by earth and creeping vegetation that glowed faintly with spiritual light.
The air itself felt different.
He inhaled deeply—and froze.
Something brushed against his senses.
It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. But as he focused, he felt it clearly: a faint pressure, like water flowing around his lungs, slipping into him with every breath.
Energy.
Not metaphorical. Not imagined.
It was real.
Xu Yan's eyes widened.
Before he could explore the sensation further, a sharp pang struck his abdomen.
Pain bloomed suddenly, centered deep within his body, radiating outward like a burning spiral. He gasped and dropped to one knee, clutching his stomach as heat surged through him.
Memories—not his own—rose unbidden.
A body collapsing.
A shattered dantian.
A desperate flight through ruins.
A final breath stolen by exhaustion.
Xu Yan sucked in a breath as the fragments slammed together.
This body had belonged to someone else.
A young man. A cultivator—barely. Someone who had tried and failed to survive.
The realization was sobering.
"I took your place," Xu Yan murmured quietly.
The pain intensified.
Then—
something responded.
The air around him warped slightly, rippling in a way that made his vision blur. The sensation was familiar now, horrifyingly so.
Space… shifted.
A low, resonant presence stirred deep within him.
You still breathe, a voice rumbled.
Good.
Xu Yan stiffened.
The dragon.
He did not see it this time. He did not need to. The voice echoed from inside him, coiled somewhere deep in his awareness, vast and heavy.
"What… are you?" Xu Yan asked quietly, unsure whether speaking aloud mattered.
Your burden, the voice replied without hesitation.
And your path.
The pain in his abdomen sharpened, then transformed, condensing into a focused pressure just below his navel. Xu Yan gasped as something clicked into place.
A presence settled there—coiled, dormant, immense.
Xu Yan instinctively knew where to focus.
He closed his eyes.
The world fell away.
Inside him, he sensed a vast, spiraling emptiness—his dantian. It was damaged, cracked, unstable… and yet, at its core, something new existed.
A fragment of the Void.
Blackish-purple energy pulsed slowly, like a sleeping heart.
Your body was broken, the dragon said calmly.
I repaired it.
Poorly.
Xu Yan swallowed.
"So I owe you my life?"
A pause.
No, the dragon replied.
You owe me your survival.
Before Xu Yan could respond, something shimmered into existence before his closed eyes.
A translucent interface unfolded smoothly, lines of pale light forming symbols and text that felt both alien and instinctively readable.
[Primordial Beast System Activated]
[Host: Xu Yan]
[Bound Beast: Void Devouring Dragon]
Xu Yan's breath caught.
The interface was simple. Stark. No unnecessary embellishment.
And terrifying.
Information flowed into him—not as words, but as understanding.
His cultivation would not progress normally.
Spiritual energy would not circulate freely through his meridians.
Instead, everything would pass through the Void Devouring Dragon.
You are not a cultivator yet, the dragon said.
You are a container.
Xu Yan's jaw tightened.
"And if I refuse?"
The dragon laughed softly.
Then you die slowly, it said.
Without ever knowing how close you came to greatness.
Silence stretched between them.
Xu Yan exhaled slowly.
"I don't plan on dying again."
The interface pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging his resolve.
[Cultivation Path Initialized]
[Current Realm: Mortal Body]
A distant sound cut through the moment.
A low growl.
Xu Yan's head snapped up.
From the edge of the ruins, shadows shifted.
Eyes glinted faintly in the dim light—predatory, hungry, drawn by weakness and the faint scent of blood still clinging to him.
The dragon's presence stirred.
Move, it said.
Or be eaten.
Xu Yan didn't hesitate.
He ran.