First, it wasn't pain, but a heavy, suffocating darkness that pressed in from all sides, then a sudden, sharp shock, like being dunked into icy water. Tang Liu's mind flickered, a tiny spark in a vast, unknown emptiness. He tried to move, to shout, but his body wouldn't listen, his throat silent. A faint, sickly sweet smell, like old lilies, teased his nose, mixing with the metallic tang of dried blood. He was frozen, adrift in a body that felt both alien and strangely his own. The memories that flooded his mind weren't his at all – a childhood of imperial luxury, loving parents, the weight of princely duties, then a sudden, terrifying betrayal, a feast, a toast, and an all-consuming pain. He, the Earthling Tang Liu, had somehow found himself in the body of a prince whose soul was completely gone. The original Tang Liu, the Third Prince of the Tang Immortal Dynasty, was dead, his essence wiped out by a poison so sneaky it left nothing but an empty shell.
He lay on a bed of silk and rich fabric, the air thick with exotic incense and the heavy quiet of a room that had seen too much sadness. Golden light, softened by detailed screen work, striped the carved ceiling, showing dust motes dancing in the still air. His eyes, though blurry, noticed the faded grandeur around him – embroidered curtains, jade statues on stands, scroll paintings of calm landscapes and mythical beasts. But a thick layer of dust covered everything, a quiet sign of neglect. Footsteps, soft and hurried, occasionally passed outside, along with hushed whispers he couldn't quite make out, yet their tone hinted at a clear sense of worry, of a house in quiet mourning, or maybe, quiet scheming.
A sharp, unpleasant wave of nausea washed over him, followed by a burning pain that pulsed along what felt like thousands of broken internal paths. His meridians, the channels for spiritual energy in this cultivation world, weren't just damaged; they were shattered, like glass shards in his flesh. Any attempt to move his Qi was impossible, each try met with agonizing resistance. This was why he was paralyzed, the physical result of the poison's devastating work. He was a cripple, essentially a living vegetable, a prince in name only, waiting for his last breath.
Then, a voice, not from outside, but echoing in the deepest parts of his fractured mind, cut through the pain and despair. It was cold, metallic, emotionless, yet incredibly clear.
[System Activated.]
[Host Soul Integrated. Analyzing Body Status: Shattered Meridians, Severed Aptitude. Life Imminent.]
[Presenting Survival Options. Choose Wisely.]
[Option 1: The Good Guy Path - Reveal consciousness. Get medical help. Ask the Emperor for justice. (Outcome: Unsure. High risk of immediate assassination by hidden enemies. Low chance of full recovery due to internal damage.)]
[Option 2: The Sneaky Path - Pretend to be unconscious. Watch and learn. Wait for an outside chance to get involved. (Outcome: Moderate risk of slow death. Depends on outside factors. Possible long-term trap.)]
[Option 3: The Primordial Path - Use your unique soul connection with the leftover poison to kickstart your body's natural healing. (Outcome: High risk of self-destruction. Possible complete physical transformation. Irreversible.)]
The choices flashed before him, stark and unforgiving. The good guy path? He wasn't stupid. Justice in an imperial court was only for the powerful, not the crippled. The sneaky path? He could lie here and rot, silently watching himself decay, a target for every ambitious snake. But the Primordial Path… high risk of self-destruction. Yet, also, a "complete physical transformation." It was the gamble of a lifetime, a desperate throw of the dice when all other options led to certain doom. And the mention of his "transmigrated soul resonance" hinted at his unique nature, a factor perhaps unknown even to the cunning forces that had tried to erase the original prince.
He made his choice, a silent, unwavering affirmation deep within his shattered mind. Primordial Path.
The world exploded in agony. It wasn't the burning of shattered meridians, but a cosmic tearing, as if the very fabric of his being was being ripped apart and put back together. Every nerve screamed, every cell vibrated with unbearable pressure. The sickly sweetness of the poison, which had been a passive torment, now became an active, corrosive force, an acidic river churning through his veins. But amidst the destruction, a strange, profound rebuilding began. His meridians, instead of mending, vaporized into shimmering motes of starlight, only to come together again, not as defined channels, but as a swirling, hazy vortex within his dantian, a tiny, budding singularity. His flesh quivered, the very atoms rearranging themselves, shedding impurities, growing stronger, denser, more resilient. He was being remade, not by cultivation, but by a primal, universal force.
[Primordial Path Chosen. Execution Successful.]
[Reward Unlocked: Void-Shattering Primordial Physique (Tier 8) - A body born from primordial chaos, immune to normal detection. All Qi scans will show 'void' or 'crippled'. Allows absorption of any energy type without conflict. Unlocks hidden potential for healing and adaptation.]
[Reward Unlocked: Primordial Breathing Technique (Tier 8) - A cultivation method that draws energy from the chaotic void between dimensions, allowing cultivation even while seemingly paralyzed. Completely undetectable by normal means.]
[Reward Unlocked: Chaos Genesis Pill (Tier 7) - A pill of immense power, capable of boosting cultivation by several levels. Warning: consuming it now would release an energy signature detectable by Immortal-tier experts. Suggestion: Keep for strategic use.]
The system voice faded, replaced by the deep, rhythmic thrumming of his newly forged body. The pain lessened, leaving behind a profound sense of inner calm, a quiet power simmering beneath his skin. He felt… different. Not healed in the traditional sense, but fundamentally changed. He still couldn't move, his limbs still unresponsive, but the internal chaos had given way to a terrifying, ordered strength. The paralysis was no longer a sign of weakness, but a temporary state of dormancy, a cocoon from which a new being was emerging.
The Chaos Genesis Pill, a shimmering, swirling orb of concentrated cosmic energy, appeared in his inner vision, resting gently within the budding singularity of his dantian. Its power was clear, tempting, but his new self, born of strategy and cold calculation, dismissed the urge. To reveal such power now, when he was utterly vulnerable, would be suicide. He would hide it, hoard it, wait for the perfect moment.
He was no longer the dead prince, nor the Earthling who had crossed over. He was something new, a blend, a silent spider in the heart of a dying empire, and he would begin to spin his web. He lay there, completely still, keeping up the act of unconsciousness, but beneath the surface, the Primordial Breathing Technique subtly began its work, drawing in the boundless, chaotic energy of the cosmos, refining it, making it his own. The game had begun, and Tang Liu, the seemingly crippled prince, was the only one who knew he was playing.