The sky cracked open with thunder as crimson lightning danced across the heavens.
In the heart of the Heavenly Ascension Platform, Lin Xuan knelt, bloodied and betrayed. His white robes were drenched in crimson, his breath shallow, his spiritual core shattered beyond repair. Around him stood the very Elders he had once called his teachers, their eyes cold, their blades stained with his blood.
"Lin Xuan," Sect Master Bai Yun said, his voice echoing across the sky. "You went too far. The Dao of Chaos is forbidden. You should never have tampered with the heavens."
Lin Xuan coughed violently, spitting blood onto the sacred stones. His once radiant eyes, now dimmed by betrayal, stared unflinchingly at his executioners.
"I devoted my life to the Dao," he rasped. "I surpassed every one of you. And you fear me for it."
"You defied the natural order," another Elder said sternly. "Chaos is destruction. You were no longer one of us."
"Then let the heavens judge me," Lin Xuan whispered.
He raised his broken hand—and smiled.
Suddenly, the skies turned pitch black. Time seemed to freeze. The clouds spiraled into a massive vortex, and from it descended a beam of black light—cold, ancient, unfathomable.
"No! He triggered the Chaos Reversal!" someone screamed.
But it was too late.
Lin Xuan's body burst into particles of light as the beam swallowed him whole. The Elders rushed forward, but the platform was empty. No ashes. No remains. Only silence.
The world believed Lin Xuan had died.
They were wrong.
---
Thirteen Years Later
In a nameless village at the edge of the Mortal Realm, thunder struck again.
A boy, barely thirteen, shot awake from a restless sleep. Sweat drenched his tattered clothes. His eyes, once dull and lifeless, now shimmered with a strange gleam—ancient and stormy.
Lin Xuan had returned.
"I'm… alive?" he muttered, clutching his chest. His memories surged—betrayal, pain, the Chaos Reversal, and the void… the endless, terrifying void. He had drifted through eternity, a soul without form, until something pulled him back into the realm of the living.
He looked around. A small hut. A straw mat. A cracked bowl of rice. The body he inhabited was frail, thin as a reed, and crippled in both legs.
"This body…" he whispered. "A cripple… a discarded orphan. How fitting."
A sharp pain stabbed through his soul.
Suddenly, a glowing sigil burned across his chest, invisible to all but him. A pitch-black orb of light hovered before his eyes—small, spinning, and pulsing with untamed energy.
[Chaos Core Bound]
Status: Dormant
Host Soul Recognized: Lin Xuan, Former Grand Sage of the Celestial Realm
A message only he could see.
"Chaos Core," he murmured, trembling. "So it followed me... even beyond death."
He reached out mentally, and the orb flickered, absorbing spiritual essence from the air—refining it, purifying it. In an instant, he felt energy surge through his meridians, burning away rot and weakness.
Snap!
His crippled legs shifted.
Pain. Then strength.
He stood.
"I walk again," he whispered.
Outside, villagers screamed. A local gang had arrived, demanding tributes. The orphan boy's hut was the first they usually ransacked.
A heavy boot kicked the door open.
"Well, well," sneered a burly man, his blade gleaming. "The cripple stands today. A miracle? Or a waste of effort?"
Lin Xuan raised his head. The light in his eyes had changed. No longer helpless. No longer mortal.
"I've returned from the abyss," he said coldly, stepping forward.
"And you will be my first offering… to chaos."
---
[Chaos Pulse Activated: First Technique Awakened — Chaotic Palm]