Three Hundred Years After the Collapse of Lingshan Mountain, I Picked up Half a Magic Talisman

Three hundred years after the collapse of Lingshan Mountain, there is no true witch in the world. The Blood Witch Cult stole the Nine Meridians and used living people to refine the patterns; The spirits and monsters dominate the land and regard humans as blood food; The death energy poured into Youdu, and there was no pure land left in the vast wilderness. The Xuanyuan family lived in oblivion for nine generations, guarding a ruined hill, half a piece of broken talisman, and a contract that no one had cared about for three thousand years. I am the tenth generation. They say that I am a useless young master - the mortal wizard has been stuck in the elementary level for twelve years and cannot even carve the most basic spirit protection pattern. They said the witch charm was fake - it hadn't been used for three hundred years and should have been thrown away long ago. They say witchcraft is dead. I thought so too. Until one dusk when I was surrounded by the Shadow Clan, that half stone burned in my palm. Just once. I "saw" the last thought left by Huangdi before Lingshan collapsed: "Find the remaining eight meridians." "Renew the contract." "Otherwise——" He wasn't finished, but I didn't need to hear it. For three hundred years, the Xuanyuan clan guarded not just a hill, but the first beacon tower. It's time for it to light up. ——As for the Blood Witch Cult saying that I am a remnant, a mantis trying to use a chariot, and the most ridiculous overestimation of my capabilities in this troubled world? Let them speak. Before the beacon burns out, I will light up the second, third, and ninth towers. When the nine meridians are reconnected, I want this vast wilderness— It can no longer cover the dawn.