The air hung thick with the stench of scorched earth and fresh blood, a morbid perfume clinging to the desolate ruins that were once the vibrant stronghold of the Lin Clan. Twisted timber and shattered stone lay scattered like the bones of a fallen titan, silent witnesses to the cataclysm that had swept through mere hours ago. A faint, acrid smoke still curled from the charred remains, painting the twilight sky in hues of ash and despair.
Amidst this tableau of destruction, a lone, broken figure lay sprawled, half-buried beneath a collapsed wall. Lin Xuan, barely sixteen cycles of the moon, gasped for breath, each ragged inhale a fresh stab of agony. His body was a canvas of grievous wounds – deep gashes bled sluggishly, bones felt dislocated, and his meridians screamed with a torment that transcended mere physical pain. But it was the emptiness, the profound, aching void within his spiritual core, that truly threatened to consume him. His Celestial Top Rank Root, a divine gift whispered to exist only once in an epoch, a treasure coveted by even Divine Lords, was gone. Ripped away, leaving behind a gaping, spiritual wound that drained his Blood Essence with every beat of his faltering heart.
No… no, not like this… His consciousness flickered, a dying candle in a raging storm. Grief, sharp and cold, pierced through the haze of pain. His clan, his family… all gone. The faces of his elders, the laughter of his younger cousins, the stern yet loving gaze of his father – they flashed before his eyes, mocking his helplessness. A searing, primal rage ignited in the depths of his being, hotter than any flame, sharper than any blade. Vengeance… I will have vengeance! It was the only thought, the only burning ember left to cling to, the last spark preventing his complete descent into oblivion.
Memories, fragmented and fleeting, danced on the edge of his fading awareness. Visions of his younger, vibrant self flickered, his Celestial Top Rank Root humming with innate power, a radiant star within his spiritual sea. He recalled the awe in his elders' eyes, the whispers of destiny, the boundless future that stretched before him. He remembered practicing sword forms under the crisp morning sun, his Qi flowing effortlessly, his potential limitless. He remembered the warmth of his mother's hand, the scent of the clan's ancestral halls, and the promise of a glorious future for the Lin Clan. All of it, now shattered, like the very stones around him. The contrast was a cruel mockery, twisting the knife in his spiritual wound.
His vision blurred, the world tilting precariously. He tried to move, to crawl, but his limbs were leaden, his spirit too weak to command them. His hand, trembling, instinctively reached out, or perhaps merely twitched in its death throes, brushing against something cold and unyielding beneath the rubble. It was a tablet, unremarkable at first glance—a slab of dark, polished stone, ancient and inert, etched with intricate, faded symbols that seemed to hold the weight of forgotten ages. There was no glow, no hum, just the silent presence of something profoundly old.
As his last conscious thought faded, a single drop of his precious, celestial-infused blood, thick and dark, seeped from a gash on his palm and touched the tablet's surface.
It began. Not with an explosion, but with a profound, almost imperceptible hum that resonated deep within the earth. The ancient symbols on the tablet, dormant for eons, stirred. A soft, ethereal light, like the dawn breaking over a primordial sea, began to emanate from the stone, slowly, steadily, pushing back the shadows of the ruins. The air around it shimmered, distorting reality in a subtle dance as if the very fabric of space was being gently unwoven. A sensation of immense, ancient vastness, cold and logical, began to expand, slowly filling the desolate space. The seals, painstakingly placed by forgotten masters, were unbinding. Lin Xuan's consciousness, already teetering on the brink, finally succumbed, plunging him into a profound, dreamless darkness.
Within the depths of the unconscious Lin Xuan's mind, a new presence stirred. The Primordial Genesis Codex had fully awakened. Its analysis was instantaneous, cold, and utterly comprehensive.
The Codex's cold, logical analysis flooded his mind, detailing his critical state: a shattered Celestial Top Rank Root, life force draining, and the undeniable signature of a Void-Echoed Harbinger's technique etched into his very being. Probability of survival without intervention: 0.0001%.
A mental query, devoid of inflection, resonated within the vast, silent expanse of Lin Xuan's fading consciousness. "Host, do you wish to merge your essence with this artifact to preserve your life and continue your journey?"
Silence. Only the faint, dying echoes of pain and vengeance remained. The Codex processed the non-response. Yet, within the fading echoes of his pain and vengeance, the Codex detected an overwhelming will to survive, a dominant desire for retribution. Its logic concluded: Affirmative.
The merge has initiated. It was a profound, spiritual fusion, not unlike the genesis of a new star. A gentle warmth, alien yet comforting, began to spread from Lin Xuan's spiritual core, slowly pushing back the encroaching cold of death. Vast, ancient knowledge, like an endless river of data, began to flow into the dormant expanse of his Consciousness Sea, settling there, waiting. The Primordial Genesis Codex anchored itself, its core integrating as the MC's Celestial Echo-Core. The subtle, rhythmic pulse of energy began to emanate from Lin Xuan's body, faint at first, then growing steadier. The immediate danger of death had passed.
Lin Xuan lay still, unconscious amidst the ruins, but the subtle hum of the Primordial Genesis Codex now resonated within him. Death had been averted, but a monumental challenge, a path forged in blood and cosmic secrets, lay before him. The vast power of an ancient era now resided within his broken body, waiting to be unleashed, waiting for vengeance, waiting to balance a universe on the brink.