The rain in the Corpse Ravine didn't clean anything. It just turned the smell of old rot into a heavy, wet soup that clogged the lungs.
Jiang Chen lay flat on his back, the black sludge of the ravine floor rising to meet his ears. He couldn't feel his legs. After a three-hundred-foot toss from the Iron Sword Sect's "Punishment Ledge," his lower half was likely a jigsaw puzzle of shattered bone and ruined nerves.
A vein of lightning cracked the purple sky, revealing the neighbors he'd be spending eternity with: snapped blades, cracked cauldrons, and the white, bloated faces of disciples who, like him, hadn't been important enough to live.
Born a rat, died a rat, he thought. The irony tasted like the copper-thick blood bubbling up his throat.
Every shallow breath sent a hot needle through his chest. A punctured lung—the cliff's final parting gift.
It was almost funny. He hadn't been a rebel or a thief. He'd just found a scrap of Spirit Grass while scrubbing the latrines. But Senior Disciple Wang wanted it, and in the Iron Sword Sect, "wanting" was the same as "owning." No trial. No questions. Just a kick to the ribs and a shove into the mist.
"I... hate... them," Jiang Chen wheezed, the words dissolving in the roaring rain.
His hand twitched, clawing at the muck in a final, pathetic spasm of life. He didn't want to die empty-handed.
His fingers brushed something.
It wasn't a rock. It was cold—not just cool to the touch, but a biting, aggressive chill that felt like a hole in the world.
Jiang Chen dragged his head to the side, his neck grinding with the sound of dry gravel. Half-buried in the silt was a shard of black crystal. It didn't reflect the lightning; it seemed to drink it, creating a tiny, hungry void in the mud.
Terrifying. Beautiful.
If I'm going to die, he thought, his mind drifting into the static of the nearly dead, at least I'll hold something that isn't trash.
He squeezed his hand shut.
ZZT.
The sound wasn't in the air; it was in his marrow.
The cold didn't stay in his hand. It surged. It felt like liquid nitrogen being injected directly into his veins, screaming up his arm, piercing his shoulder, and drilling into the base of his skull.
Jiang Chen's spine snapped into a bow. He tried to scream, but his lungs were full of static. His memories started to fray, his consciousness being shoved aside to make room for something vast, ancient, and mechanical.
Then, the world went dead quiet. The rain seemed to freeze in mid-air.
In the hollowed-out space of his mind, a blue light flickered. It wasn't a hallucination. It was a series of sharp, glowing lines that felt more like a machine than a soul.
[System Rebooting...]
[Vitality: Critical. Lung Capacity: 10%.]
[Error: Vessel is too weak. Soul Compatibility: Low.]
[Initiating Override Protocol: "Parasitic Bond."]
Jiang Chen watched the words, his mind reeling. Vessel? Protocol? Is this a demon?
[Correction. Not a Curse. A Chance.]
The text shifted, reacting to his fear.
[Do you wish to live, Host #449?]
[YES / NO]
The intent was blasted into his brain. Live or Rot.
The face of Senior Disciple Wang flashed in his memory—the way he'd laughed while Jiang Chen fell. The unfairness of it burned hotter than the cold shard in his hand.
I want to kill them, Jiang Chen snarled into the darkness of his own head. I want to live.
[Acknowledged. Welcome to the Heavenly Devourer System.]
CRACK.
Jiang Chen's body slammed back into the mud.
The healing wasn't a miracle; it was an execution. He felt his bones grinding together, knitting with a violent, audible snap. His ribs forced themselves back into place. The punctured lung re-inflated with a wet pop, forcing a gasp of air into his throat that tasted of ozone.
Black, oily grime began to seep out of his skin—impurities being purged by force.
He thrashed in the muck for what felt like hours, screaming until his voice was a raw rasp. It felt like ten thousand hornets were stitching his muscles together from the inside out.
And then, silence.
Jiang Chen sat up, the rain washing the black film from his new skin. He blinked. The blurry gray world was suddenly sharp. He could see the individual droplets of rain falling from the sky. He could hear the heartbeat of a rat hiding under a rock twenty feet away.
He looked at his hands. The calluses from years of sweeping were gone. His skin looked like silk but felt like cured hide.
"Alive," he whispered. His voice was deeper now, vibrating in his ribs.
A flickering blue haze hung in the air before him. He waved a hand through it. It stayed.
[Status Report]
Host: Jiang Chen State: Recovered. Cultivation: Mortal (Meridians Cleared) Objective: Survival.
Jiang Chen's eyes widened. "Heavenly Devourer System?" he rasped. "Are you... a spirit?"
[Answer: I am your Guide. Your Weapon. Your Destiny.]
The text scrolled faster now, urgent.
[Warning: Energy reserves depleted from emergency repairs. Immediate sustenance required.]
"Sustenance?" Jiang Chen touched his stomach.
A hunger hit him then—a hollow, roaring ache that made his teeth throb. It wasn't a stomach ache; it was a soul-deep craving. He felt like he could eat the world and still want more.
[Quest Issued: The First Feast]
Target: Iron-Tooth Corpse Rat (30ft North). Action: Hunt and Consume. Reward: +1 Strength, System Shop Access. Failure: Starvation.
Jiang Chen stared. "Eat... a rat?"
He looked North. Emerging from a dead man's ribcage was a rat the size of a wolfhound, its fur matted with grease, teeth glowing with green venom.
Normally, he'd run. An Iron-Tooth Rat could bite through steel.
But as he looked at the beast, the fear didn't come.
The hunger in his gut flared, sending a rush of heat to his brain. His vision shifted. The rain faded into the background, and the rat suddenly glowed with a pulsing red aura. He could hear the blood pumping in its veins. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It smelled... delicious.
What is wrong with me? he thought, his stomach cramping. It's a monster. I can't eat that.
[Advisory: The weak eat what they are given. The strong eat what they want.]
The blue screen hovered, waiting.
Jiang Chen gritted his teeth. He remembered the fall. He remembered the feeling of being trash.
"No," he hissed, his hands curling into claws in the mud. "Never again."
He didn't know if this System was a god or a demon. He didn't care. If being human meant being a victim, he would gladly become something else.
Jiang Chen crouched low, his muscles coiling with a power he didn't understand.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't the prey.