The oppressive darkness of the Ancient Dragon Corpse Burial Ground pressed down upon the world like a suffocating tomb. The newly awakened being remained still for a moment, feeling the stagnant air flow around his ragged robes. His black hair fell forward, veiling his pale, angular face. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to the cavern ceiling, eyes glowing dimly in the darkness.
He could hear it clearly now – the whispers of dragon spirits bound to their own decayed bones. Their resentment and agony wove through the black mist, like a lamentation that never ended.
"Still trapped here… pathetic," he whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp that echoed off the cave walls.
He stepped out of the black coffin. The remains of talismans crumbled under his bare feet as he walked forward, the rusted chains falling away like withered vines. As he reached the mouth of the cave, moonlight filtered through the jagged opening, illuminating the black veins that snaked beneath his translucent skin.
Outside, the burial ground stretched endlessly, littered with the colossal bones of dragons – ivory white, ash grey, obsidian black. Some lay half-buried in cracked earth, while others coiled around ruined stone pillars and scattered shrines. Faint draconic auras seeped from these remains, giving the entire place an unnatural, oppressive weight.
He raised a hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against his palm.
"How many millions of years has it been…"
He took a breath, tasting the air laced with decay and ancient qi. It felt strange after so long within the coffin, like inhaling the scent of a world that no longer belonged to him.
His steps were silent as he walked between dragon ribs that arched like dead temples. Each step felt heavy; not from fatigue, but from the weight of the countless seals that had bound his existence for so long. He glanced around, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
His mind drifted back further than this body's memories – to his true self, slain by Old Heaven in the Primordial Wars.
"Old Heaven… you killed my main body and scattered my divine bones across the void, thinking it was over. But this vessel…"
He looked down at his pale hands, feeling the faint, artificial pulse within them. This was not the body Old Heaven had buried or sealed. No – this was a shell he had prepared long before the final battle, hidden within a black coffin, far away from the eyes of gods and devils.
"A mere remnant… yet enough to walk this world once more."
He smirked faintly, though the smile carried no warmth. His pale lips cracked from disuse, but he felt no pain. Slowly, he brushed his hair back, revealing sharp, elegant features framed by strands of midnight black. His eyes, however, remained empty, like wells that led to a bottomless abyss.
As he walked, the ground shifted beneath his feet. Cracks spiderwebbed outward, and fragments of bone crumbled away, tumbling down the steep cliffs at the burial ground's edge. He paused, peering into the abyss below.
A cold wind surged upward from the chasm, carrying with it the scent of pine forests and rushing water far below. The cliff edge was ragged and loose, worn down by endless storms and eons of decay.
He stepped forward, testing the ground with his bare foot. For a fleeting moment, he felt the world tilt beneath him.
Crack.
The stone crumbled under his weight.
In an instant, the cliff edge gave way, collapsing into a shower of rocks and dust. His body tilted forward, the world spinning around him as he plunged into the abyss. Wind tore at his robes, whipping his long hair into a wild black banner above him. Dust and debris fell alongside him, a silent rain of shattered stone and bone.
He did not struggle. Instead, his empty eyes stared at the moonlit sky as it spun overhead. He felt the pull of gravity tighten around him, a cold embrace dragging him downwards.
Far below, the thunder of a river roared into his senses.
Moments later, his body struck the icy surface with a deafening splash. Water surged over him, its force slamming him against submerged rocks before sweeping him into the current. For the first time since his awakening, a sharp pain bloomed in his side where the jagged riverbed tore through his robe and scraped his flesh.
The current dragged him under, swirling him through pitch-black depths. Shadows danced above as the moonlight fractured across turbulent waves. He felt the cold sink into his bones, numbing his limbs. His robes billowed around him, heavy with water, tangling around his arms as he fought to right himself.
His vision flickered. Deep within, something pulsed – a faint ember of qi long sealed away. He clenched his jaw and drew upon that fragment, forcing his limbs to move. His hands sliced through the water, breaking the surface as he gasped in air.
Waves crashed over his head again, shoving him down. Rocks slammed against his back as he drifted helplessly through the river's furious current. His eyes narrowed against the spray, seeing only blurred darkness and silver moonlight above. For a brief moment, his mind drifted back to the cavern:
How disgraceful… to be swept away by mere river water, after awakening from millions of years within this vessel.
He felt anger flare within him – not at the river, but at himself. He had only just awakened, his cultivation sealed and his meridians stiff from endless confinement. The Old Heaven had shattered his true body and ensured his name was wiped from all chronicles. But they never found this hidden shell.
But anger brought clarity. His chest burned with pain, but he forced his muscles to move, twisting his body to avoid a jagged boulder looming ahead. Water thundered in his ears as he was swept around it, spinning through the frothing current until he felt his feet scrape the riverbed.
Not yet.
He reached out with one hand, fingers clawing at the rocks lining the riverbank. At first, his grip slipped. The stones were slick with moss, and the current threatened to drag him back into its depths. But on the third try, his fingers found a deep crack in the stone. He clung to it with what little strength remained, coughing out water as he dragged himself onto the muddy shore.
For a long time, he lay there, chest heaving as he spat out river water mixed with blood. His body trembled, not from cold, but from the shock of impact and qi starvation. Above him, the crescent moon peered through drifting clouds, illuminating the torn edges of his ragged robes and the bruises already darkening his pale skin.
He turned his head, eyes half-lidded, and stared at the rushing river beside him.
"This world… even its river gods mock me."
He coughed again, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. He shifted slightly, feeling the black veins beneath his skin pulse with each heartbeat. His body felt frail, far weaker than he remembered, but that did not matter.
Slowly, he sat up, hair clinging to his soaked face and shoulders. Water dripped from his robes as he straightened his spine, staring into the dark forest that lined the riverbank. He sensed no humans nearby, only the faint qi signatures of night creatures – foxes, owls, snakes slithering through wet grass.
"None of those old cunning friends witnessed my return. Good."
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the faintest flicker of his cultivation stirring. His spiritual sea was a wasteland, sealed by intricate formations that felt like rusted chains around his soul. But now that he had awakened, he could feel each seal's weakness, each fracture formed by time and decay. A small smile flickered across his lips.
"It will not be long… before these seals break entirely."
His gaze turned back to the river. The current rushed past, carrying broken branches, fallen leaves, and shattered stones from the cliff above. It flowed swiftly eastward, disappearing into the darkness of the forest valleys beyond.
He rose unsteadily to his feet, water dripping from his robes in steady streams. As he stood there, drenched under the moonlight, he appeared like a fallen spirit crawling out from the netherworld. His hair clung to his back in long black strands, and his pale eyes gleamed faintly in the dark.
He glanced down at his hands – slender, claw-like fingers, pale skin etched with faint black lines that pulsed with an eerie light. They trembled slightly from exhaustion.
"Pathetic… but only for now."
Above, lightning rippled across the sky, illuminating the world in brief flashes of silver. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if heralding an approaching storm.
He turned away from the river and began walking into the forest. Each step was slow and deliberate, leaving wet footprints across the muddy ground. The scent of pine, wet earth, and moss surrounded him, mingling with the faint metallic tang of his own blood.
In the darkness, only one thought echoed in his mind:
"I have returned… and this world shall remember my name."