In the thirty-seven hundredth year of the Xuanfa Calendar, the Purple Tide overthrew the Nine Heavens.
The spiritual veins withered into scorched earth, the magic formulas shattered into powder, and the monks who had once made great changes were reduced to "spiritual skeletons", curling up like maggots in the crevices of the ruins - while those "Abyss Devourers" eroded by the haze were clawing at the broken walls, staring at them with bleeding eyes: "It's your turn for the next batch of nutrients."
Xuan Jin squatted behind the remaining pillars of the Xuanfa Hall, with fragments of the ancient seal script still stuck between his fingernails.
He looked at the billowing purple mist on the horizon, and a maniacal laugh escaped from his throat—others were afraid of spiritual tides, but he could count which city each purple mist would swallow up three days before the tide rose.
But so what?
He was the last wild dog of the Fentian clan. When he was stabbed through the Dantian by his fellow disciples, those people scolded him as "a remnant of blood is worthy of cultivating magic"; when he was surrounded by the Abyss Devourer in an abandoned well, even the bones threw rotten vegetable leaves at him: "The spiritual bones should be fed to monsters!"
Until one night, he licked his wounds and swallowed a piece of mystical magic.
The hot blood exploded into a sea of fire in his veins, and he heard ancient war songs coming from the cracks in his bones - it turned out that the so-called "bloodline severance" was just a lock hidden in the bones and blood of the previous generation!
On the day when the purple tide came over again, Xuan Jin stood at the highest point of the ruins, with the heads of three Abyss Eaters under his feet.
He pulled off the blood-stained rag, revealing the red flames surging on his chest.
