The Yue family stood before a crimson door etched with twisting black serpents. Each serpent's eyes shimmered faintly then, as if alive, turned toward them. Yue Zihan blinked in awe. Even through his blindfold, he could sense their eerie vitality.
"The door was forged by a master craftsman," his father explained calmly, hands clasped behind his back. "He inscribed runes using the bones of a Nine-Headed Serpent. Its will still lingers within. Anyone who enters without our bloodline's permission…" Yue Chenxi paused, his gaze sharpening. "Will be devoured."
The moment his words fell, the serpents hissed softly then stilled again.
The door opened of its own accord. From within, a suffocating wave of chaotic qi rolled out, thick and violent, like a thousand storms compressed into one breath. The air itself trembled. Even standing at the threshold made the soul quiver.
Zihan felt his tiny body sway. He could sense it the Dao of Chaos. The kind of power mortals weren't even meant to perceive.
"Go on," his father said, lowering him gently. His tone softened, yet carried the weight of unspoken pride. "Everything has been prepared. From here on, it's up to you. Don't feel pressured, my son. Even if you never cultivate, I will still protect you."
Zihan looked up, startled. His father smiled faintly , the kind of smile that hid centuries of responsibility.
"Good luck, little one," his mother said with her gentle voice. "Mother will be waiting… with a gift."
He hesitated only for a moment, then turned toward the dark chamber. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the door closed with a heavy boom.
Silence.
He reached up, untied his blindfold, and blinked.
The space before him was endless a void without sky or ground. In the center bubbled a spring of scarlet liquid, glowing like molten blood. It radiated heat and power, the air thick with ancient intent. Next to it lay a small table, and atop it, a single weathered book.
Zihan picked it up. The cover was plain, but when he opened it, faint golden script shimmered across the pages.
"Strip yourself of all. Enter the Pool of Chaos.
Remain until pain fades into comfort.
Only then is the body worthy of the Dao."
He looked up at the blood-red spring and grimaced.
"Ah. The classic 'bathe in something that could kill you' moment," he muttered.
On the wall opposite him, an inscription glowed faintly:
Before one holds the Dao, one must first hold the body.
He understood.
This was not about power it was about endurance. The forging of flesh and spirit.
Before the spring stood three steps of dark stone, each carved with ancient words. The first read:
To step into chaos is to die.
Zihan took a breath and stepped forward.
Agony exploded through him instantly. His small body felt like it was being crushed under a mountain. His knees buckled. Every muscle screamed. Sweat poured from him, then blood. Still, he gritted his teeth tiny, milk teeth that ground together with surprising ferocity.
From outside, if anyone could see, they would witness a sight of horror: a one-year-old child, body convulsing, blood vaporizing into mist, as invisible forces tore and reforged his flesh.
He staggered forward and placed a trembling foot on the second step.
To emerge, reborn.
A sudden warmth washed over him. The pain vanished replaced by a hollow, burning emptiness. His body fell, but his soul was ripped free, floating above his flesh.
It was torment beyond mortal comprehension. Fire licked his spirit, and he screamed though no sound came out. Every breath was eternity. Every second, an inferno.
When he was finally thrust back into his body, he collapsed, trembling violently. His soul still burned, a phantom pain clawing at his mind.
Yet when he looked up at the final step, a strange calm filled him.
To become a new law.
He climbed, step by step. When he reached the top, a surge of warmth flowed through his veins. The pain faded, replaced by a deep, pulsing rhythm as if his body itself had become a vessel of something ancient. His skin gleamed faintly, veins glowing like molten rivers.
The world felt different. Quieter. Yet vast.
He approached the pool. The surface shimmered, rippling as if calling him.
"Yeah, yeah… I get it," he murmured, staring at it suspiciously. "You want me to jump in. But let's not be too hasty. This ain't Xianxia novel world"
He sat beside it and unpacked the small meal his parents had prepared.
Steamed buns, soft fruit, a hint of spiritual fragrance.
"Parents' logic: torture the kid, then feed him. Truly… tough love at its finest."
He ate slowly, then lay back beside the spring.
His eyes closed.
Somewhere deep within the scarlet waters, a faint hum stirred , an ancient pulse, like the heartbeat of creation itself.
The forging of a Primordial Chaos Body had begun.