Xu Yan ran until his lungs burned.
The ruins blurred past him in jagged fragments—collapsed stone walls, fractured pillars, vegetation glowing faintly with spiritual light. His feet struck uneven ground, muscles protesting as he forced speed from a body that was not yet fully his.
Behind him, the growls grew louder.
Not one beast.
Several.
He risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it.
Shapes moved between the ruins—low, sinewy forms with elongated limbs and eyes that reflected pale light. Their bodies were partially translucent, as though they existed half a step out of reality. Each movement left faint distortions in the air, ripples that made Xu Yan's vision warp.
Void-tainted beasts.
The knowledge surfaced unbidden, slipping into his thoughts as naturally as breathing.
Drawn by instability, the dragon's voice murmured inside him.
By you.
Xu Yan cursed under his breath and pushed harder.
His chest tightened with every breath. The air here carried energy—thick, heavy—but his body had no idea how to use it yet. Each inhale filled him with potential and frustration in equal measure.
A stone jutted up from the ground unexpectedly.
Xu Yan stumbled.
Pain flared as his knee slammed into the ground, skin splitting open. Before he could recover, a shrill screech cut through the air.
Something leapt.
Xu Yan twisted instinctively—and the world shifted.
Space bent just enough for the beast's claws to pass through where his throat had been a heartbeat earlier. The sensation was nauseating, like being pulled sideways through a narrow gap. He rolled across the ground, gasping, pain tearing through his ribs as he came to a stop.
The beast landed awkwardly, snarling in confusion.
Xu Yan stared at it, heart pounding.
That hadn't been speed.
It hadn't even been skill.
Space itself had moved him.
Void Drift, the dragon said calmly.
Do not rely on it. It will fail you if you become careless.
Xu Yan scrambled back to his feet and ran again, adrenaline overriding pain. His mind raced as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
So that's how it works…
Not a shield. Not protection.
A misalignment.
The beasts gave chase, but they hesitated now, movements cautious. Xu Yan sensed it faintly—a subtle awareness, like invisible lines drawn across the world. He didn't see them exactly, but he felt where space was thinner, where steps required less effort.
His body moved almost on its own, weaving through narrow gaps, leaping across broken stone where the beasts struggled to follow.
Minutes stretched into eternity.
Eventually, the growls faded.
Xu Yan collapsed behind a fallen structure, back pressed against cold stone, chest heaving violently. His vision swam, dark spots flickering at the edges.
He had survived.
Barely.
And survival had already demanded a price.
Pain throbbed through his body in waves. His knee burned, blood soaking into torn fabric. His ribs ached sharply every time he breathed.
Xu Yan closed his eyes and focused inward, more out of desperation than understanding.
The moment he did, the world shifted.
He found himself standing—not physically, but in perception—within a vast, hollow space. Darkness spiraled outward endlessly, tinged with faint blackish-purple light.
At the center of it all, something slept.
The Void Devouring Dragon was coiled deep within his dantian, its massive form compressed into a fragment small enough to exist inside him, yet still radiating overwhelming presence.
Each slow breath it took caused the surrounding emptiness to pulse.
You are inefficient, the dragon remarked.
Xu Yan let out a shaky laugh. "I noticed."
The dragon's eye cracked open, revealing a depth that made Xu Yan's thoughts feel shallow by comparison.
Your body was never meant to house me, it said.
Every action you take tears at yourself.
Until you learn control.
"How?" Xu Yan asked quietly.
The dragon shifted.
By accepting the contract you already bear.
A faint pressure spread through Xu Yan's awareness. The darkness around him condensed, lines of pale light forming once more.
The system interface reappeared.
[Primordial Beast System]
[Void Devouring Dragon — Bound]
[Contract Status: Incomplete]
Xu Yan frowned. "Incomplete?"
You have not chosen, the dragon replied.
You have only survived.
The interface shifted.
Two options manifested, stark and unforgiving.
[Option 1: Sever the Bond]
— Cultivation halted
— Body collapse probability: 87%
— Survival probability: 13%
[Option 2: Accept the Contract]
— Cultivation bound to Primordial Beast
— Space affinity unlocked (unstable)
— Lifespan: Uncertain
— Heaven's attention: Increased
Xu Yan stared at the options in silence.
This wasn't a choice.
It was a sentence.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think past the immediate terror. The dragon watched him with open curiosity, as though genuinely interested in how a mortal would respond when cornered.
"If I accept," Xu Yan said, "do I belong to you?"
The dragon's gaze sharpened.
No, it said after a moment.
You belong to the Void.
As do I.
That was somehow worse.
Xu Yan clenched his fists.
"But I can grow stronger?"
Yes.
"I can survive?"
If you endure.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Then I accept."
The moment the words left his mouth, pain exploded through him.
It felt as though his dantian shattered completely, fragments tearing through his meridians. Xu Yan screamed, body convulsing in the physical world as the dragon's power surged.
The darkness around him compressed violently.
The dragon roared—not in anger, but in satisfaction.
Then crawl, it commanded.
And grow.
The system flared.
[Contract Accepted]
[Cultivation Path: Void-Bound]
[Realm: Qi Condensation — Initiating]
Energy flooded into Xu Yan—not gentle, not refined. It was raw, violent, torn straight from microscopic fractures in space itself.
His meridians burned.
Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.
But beneath the agony, something else stirred.
Strength.
Xu Yan's consciousness snapped back to his body. He collapsed fully onto the ground, gasping as the pain slowly receded into a dull, persistent ache.
The world felt… clearer.
Sharper.
He could sense the air flowing around him, the way space subtly bent near solid objects. His breathing steadied, each inhale drawing faint threads of energy inward.
Qi.
Unstable. Crude.
But his.
Xu Yan lay there for a long time, staring at the alien sky through gaps in the ruins.
He had taken his first step.
And already, the cost was etched into his bones.
Far above, beyond clouds and distance, something shifted.
A faint ripple passed through the heavens—brief, precise, deliberate.
Heaven had felt it.
Xu Yan didn't know it yet.
But the moment he accepted the contract, he had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.
And something, somewhere, had started counting.