Mechanical Ascension in the Abyss of Time

The fierce winds atop Mount Qingming whipped ice crystals through the dark sky, their sharp howls cutting through the air. Lin Yuan knelt in the center of the Nine-Star Spirit-Gathering Formation, his Daoist robes already soaked with cold sweat. As he watched the Foundation Establishment Dao patterns gradually take shape in his palm, a rusty, metallic sweetness suddenly rose in his throat.

Something was wrong...