After the Battle of the Falling Heavens, Lin Mo's father vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a battered iron token engraved with the character "Prison." Lin Mo clutched it for three days and nights, then ventured alone into the wasteland.
At the bottom of the Heavenly Abyss Cliff, the mist split apart. A black stone stele rose from the earth. It bore no writing, only a single crack. A thread of golden light shone from within, and then countless visions crashed into his mind: nine moons shattering, a giant stepping down to form a lake, a black dragon leaping from the sea and turning to stone.
A voice came from inside the stele, shaking his bones to the marrow: "You're nothing but a mortal. How dare you seek a glimpse of Heaven?"
The words "mortal bones" had been branded on Lin Mo's fate from the day he was born. Any cultivator in this wasteland could unleash a hundred-foot wave of spiritual pressure before him, crushing his bones until they creaked. But he didn't retreat. He lowered his eyes to the back of his hand. Something was writhing beneath the skin. It was a bone that shouldn't exist in a body of mortal bones, pitch-black and threaded with natural veins, sleeping deep within his marrow. It was waiting for the right moment.
The Heaven-Prison Stele sank back into the mist. Lin Mo wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and stood up. On this land abandoned by the world, he would break his own bones one by one, then replace them one by one. The wasteland grew no spirit herbs and nurtured no golden cores; it raised only lone wolves. Starting today, he would be that lone wolf.
