Salty rain dripped through cracked tiles onto his eyelids, and Sù Wàng snapped awake, his skull cracking against the damp wooden wall behind him. Beneath his palm lay a slimy straw pallet, reeking of stale brine and rot, while a throbbing ache in his right wrist drew his gaze to a ragged, crescent-shaped gash in his sleeve—flesh peeled back as if gnawed by something with serrated teeth.
"This body… isn't mine." He stared at his trembling fingers, dirt caked beneath nails the color of dried blood, as memories flooded in: Three days ago, the fishing boat had been swallowed by a storm. The original owner of this body had clung to a splintered hull and washed back to Mistveil Village half-dead. Just this morning, the village elder had sent word: he was needed to carry offerings at the night's Sea God Festival.
Thunder split the sky, wind slamming rotten shutters against the frame. Sù Wàng pushed to his feet, steadying himself against a mud wall oozing blackish water. In the corner lay a moldering basket of dried fish, while a half-fish, half-human wooden idol on the windowsill glimmered with eerie light from obsidian eyes. According to the original's memories, this was the "Sea God" the village had worshiped for generations—but its twisted mouth and bulging orbs looked more like a mutated creature preserved in formaldehyde.
Suddenly, the plank door groaned under unseen weight. Sù Wàng snatched a rusted harpoon from the corner, iron filings mingling with rainwater on his palm. What slithered through the gap wasn't the elder's boots, but the wet, squelching sound of tentacles dragging across stone, followed by a roar that dissolved into bubbling static.
The door crashed inward. Standing there was a two-meter-tall abomination: skin slick with grayish slime, three bulbous compound eyes protruding from either side of its skull, irises milky and clouded. Its mouth split to the ears, revealing rows of serrated fangs, while six sucker-studded tentacles rippled from its chest—one coiled around a half-eaten fish, slime dripping to the floor with a corrosive ssss.
"Deep One juvenile?" The words escaped him, not from the original's memories, but from past life readings of Cthulhu fiction. The creature's eyes swiveled, tentacles tensing to strike. He rolled instinctively, the harpoon grazing its abdomen—black-green blood splattered the wall, hissing like quicklime meeting water.
As his back slammed into a wooden cabinet, Sù Wàng saw the jade pendant on his chest glowing—a cracked relic he'd bought at an Earth antique market, claimed to be late Qing dynasty jade. Now it pulsed crimson, light seeping from its fissures into his skin. Agony exploded in his mind, visions flashing: tattered cultivation manuals, a cyan-lit system interface, and an icy voice repeating: "Nine Abyss Heresy System, initiating."
Tentacles lashed again. Sù Wàng crashed through the rear window, rain pelting his face. The village's stilted huts lined the shore, but now they were deathly silent—every light extinguished, only the roar of waves against reefs echoing through the fog. He sprinted across slick cobblestones, the creature's squelching pursuit gaining ground.
"Newbie Reward?" He recalled the system's flash, willpower igniting a semi-transparent interface:
[Congratulations, Host! Nine Abyss Heresy System activated. Newbie Reward: Art of Drawing Qi into Madness (Fragmented), Basic Absorption Technique, Storage Jade Slip (10 Slots). Current Realm: Mortal Tier 1. Points: 0.]
"Absorption Technique… drain monster energy?" A reckless plan formed. He skidded to a halt, spinning as the tentacle nearly scraped his nose. The harpoon plunged into the creature's third eye—the weak spot he'd noticed in its attack pattern. The tip sank into gelatinous flesh, the Deep One screeching as its body convulsed.
Sù Wàng clamped a hand over the bleeding socket, skin like rotting jelly beneath his fingers. The system flared red:
[Detected Absorbable Creature: Deep One Juvenile (Young, Power ≈ Mortal Tier 2). Initiate Absorption?]
He grit his teeth: "Yes." The creature shriveled, gray slime dissolving into motes of light that poured into his palm. The pendant blazed, energy surging through his veins—when the last spark faded, his wound had healed, limbs thrumming with newfound strength. He plucked a detached tentacle from the floor, the system pinging:
[Acquired Deep One Tentacle (Mortal-Grade Material). Can be used to craft Decay Poison Talisman.]
"This piece-of-shit system even has alchemy?" he muttered, voice too loud in the storm. The pendant vibrated faintly, as if in reply. Looking down, the cracked jade had fused with his chest, leaving a faint red mark shaped like a miniature abyss vortex.
Dragging the harpoon back to the hut, Sù Wàng sank to the floor, the system interface hovering in his mind. The Art of Drawing Qi into Madness unspooled, obscure characters translating seamlessly: "To draw qi is to channel the world's demonic energy into the body, refining essence into power, forging flesh and spirit…" He willed the mantra, feeling a corrosive heat stir in his energy core, unlike any Earthly martial art—this energy hummed with ruinous fury.
"Everyone else follows the Cthulhu system, and I'm stuck with heresy… 'Nine Abyss Heresy System'—might as well tattoo 'villain' on my forehead." He tugged at his soaked clothes, gaze landing on the Sea God idol. In the original's memories, the elder claimed the god protected fishermen, but in three months, no boat had returned—including his father's.
A hard object in his pocket: a cracked jade slip. The system identified it as a Storage Jade Slip. With a thought, harpoon and tentacle vanished. "Handier than a spatial ring, though who knows how much it holds." His murmur was cut short by distant bells—three long tolls, jarringly sharp in the storm.
The original's memories stirred: the Sea God Festival signal. Normally held at the dock with fish and wine offerings, but tonight's bells rang an hour early, their tone off-kilter, as if intertwined with a monster's growl.
Hugging the wall, Sù Wàng crept to the door. The rain had eased, but fog thickened. Cobblestones littered with shattered pottery, voices and clanging metal drifting from the dock. He peered closer: two dozen villagers stood torchlit, three blackwood coffins on a central altar, blood seeping from their seams.
"Human sacrifices this year?" Hidden behind rotting nets, Sù Wàng watched the elder in a fish-scale robe raise a dagger over the nearest coffin. In past festivals, offerings had been fish—now villagers stared at the coffins with sickened frenzy, not reverence.
Bells tolled again, mingling with a tsunami's roar. The sea erupted in azure glows, mirroring the Deep Ones' eyes. Sù Wàng gripped the jade slip, sweating—system info said juveniles were Mortal Tier 2, and he'd absorbed one easily. Did that mean villagers were weaker… or willfully blind to danger?
The elder plunged the dagger into the coffin, blood spraying his face as the crowd cheered. Then the ocean heaved, a ten-meter wave cresting with a hulking figure: fish-headed, bone-finned, eight tentacles thicker than huts—an adult Deep One, the true "Sea God" of the original's nightmares.
Breath held, Sù Wàng watched the creature sweep the altar aside with a tentacle. Torches died, plunging the dock into darkness—only its azure eyes moved, villagers' screams slicing the air as bodies were torn apart.
"Can I absorb the adult?" He checked his realm: Qi Drawing Tier 1, points 50. The Basic Absorption Technique allowed creatures up to one tier above. The adult was Qi Drawing Tier 3, marked as "High Risk" in the system.
"Fuck it." Crawling through nets, he targeted the creature's nape—an exposed scale cluster, the neural ganglion he'd "seen" in the juvenile's memories. Summoning the Art of Drawing Qi into Madness, he channeled heat into the harpoon. The Deep One turned, eyes locking on his hiding spot. He leaped, blade piercing the soft flesh beneath the scale.
The monster's roar deafened, tentacles sweeping him off his feet. Through the pain, the system blared:
[Critical Weak Point Hit! Initiating Overload Absorption. Target Realm: Qi Drawing Tier 3. Host Realm: Qi Drawing Tier 1. Risk Level: Moderate. Force Absorption?]
"Yes!" He bit his tongue, watching the creature deflate, light flooding his core. The pendant glowed white-hot, his mind splitting as a warning flashed:
[Cthulhu Essence Corruption: 15%. Use Points to Purge Immediately!]
When the absorption ended, his realm had surged to Qi Drawing Tier 2, points skyrocketing to 300—but his chest felt clogged with icy sludge, every breath tasting of brine. Stumbling to a hut, he heard the dock fall silent, only waves and a distant, bubbling song lingering.
Collapsing on the straw pallet, he saw the Art of Drawing Qi into Madness a third completed, a new spell: Decay Poison (Basic), converting Deep One slime into toxic mist. The pendant's mark pulsed, tiny azure lights writhing beneath his skin, mirroring the creatures' eyes.
"Next time absorb in a safer spot." He eyed the clearing fog, the village's silhouette now grotesque, idols looming like watchful ghosts. The pendant vibrated warmly as he closed his eyes, system interface swirling in his mind. Killing the first Deep One had bound him to this world—the "Nine Abyss Heresy System" wasn't a cheat, but a cursed gift: power through absorption, but corruption with every dose, a dance on the edge of an endless abyss.
A ragged rooster crowed, more strangled scream than call. Sù Wàng sat up, retrieving the tentacle from the Storage Slip. The system pinged:
[Detected Craftable Materials. Create Decay Poison Talisman? Cost: 50 Points.]
"Craft." He confirmed, watching the tentacle dissolve into a grayish talisman, veins squirming like living tentacles. Tucking it away, he stared at the brightening sky—coastline hazy in the mist, filled with unknown horrors and the need to survive.
The pendant's light faded to a faint glow. Sù Wàng touched a family photo in his pocket, a smiling fisherman in the frame. "Don't worry. I'll find the truth." His words were stolen by the wind, vanishing into the mist-shrouded sea.
No villager in Mistveil Village would wake that night. As first light pierced the fog, Sù Wàng stood at the village gate, a harpoon gleaming beneath his cloak. He didn't know what horrors or conspiracies awaited, but one truth burned clear: in this world, strength alone would unearth the secrets beneath the mist, and on the heretical path of the Nine Abyss, only the relentless survived.
The pendant's mark throbbed—an omen, or a promise. Shouldering his pack, he stepped forward, into a dawn stained with the faintest hue of cosmic dread.