The world of the living was a haze of grey and gold, like looking through a pane of glass frosted by ancient winter.
Fang Lin sat cross-legged on the cold, hard surface of his own memorial tablet. To anyone else, the ancestral hall of the Lin family was a place of somber silence, filled with the heavy scent of sandalwood incense and the flickering light of white funeral candles. To Fang, it was his new prison—and his new throne.
"Two hundred and ten years," Fang muttered. His voice didn't disturb the smoke of the incense; it was a ripple in the spiritual essence of the room. "I spent two centuries crawling through the mud of the cultivation world. I fought rogue cultivators for a single Spirit Stone. I swallowed toxic, low-grade pills just to break through to the next layer. I finally reached the Golden Core stage, carved out a piece of land, and what is my reward? A hole in my chest from a Spirit Severing Sect elder and a one-way ticket to a piece of cedar wood."
He looked down at his translucent hands. They were pale, shimmering with a ghostly blue light. He could feel the connection to his descendants, a thin, vibrating thread of bloodline energy that tied him to the living world.
Right now, that thread was fraying.
At the foot of the altar, a young man was kneeling. This was Lin Chen, Fang's eldest grandson. He was twenty years old, tall but gaunt, his face pale with the exhaustion of a month-long mourning period. More importantly, his cultivation was abysmal—only the 3rd layer of Qi Condensation. In a world where strength was the only currency, Lin Chen was a bankrupt man.
"Grandfather..." Chen whispered, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. "The Zhang Clan has sent another messenger. They say that since you have... passed... the lease on the Spirit Stone mine is void. They are coming tonight to seize the deed. The elders... they are talking about surrendering. They say we cannot hold the estate without a Golden Core protector."
Fang felt a surge of spectral fury. The Zhang Clan! He remembered their patriarch, a sniveling man who had begged Fang for mercy thirty years ago during a border dispute. Now that the lion was dead, the hyenas were laughing.
"Surrender?" Fang roared, his ghostly aura flaring. The flames of the funeral candles turned a deep, vengeful violet for a split second. "I built this house with blood and bone! If those old fools sell my legacy, I'll reach out from the underworld and strangle them myself!"
Suddenly, a sound like a chiming bell echoed directly in Fang's soul.
[DING! Clan Development System Initialized.]
[Host: Fang Lin (Ancestral Spirit State)]
[Status: Level 1 Ancestor]
[Clan Grade: 9th Grade (Deteriorating)]
[Clan Population: 42]
[Clan Fate Points (CFP): 100 (Initial Bonus)]
[The clan is in crisis. As the Ancestor, you cannot interfere physically, but you can guide the bloodline to glory.]
Fang froze. A system? A "trump card"?
"You're late," Fang hissed at the glowing interface. "You're two hundred years late! Where were you when I was being hunted by the Silver-Moon Wolves? Where were you when the Spirit Severing Sect stabbed me in the heart?"
The system did not answer with words, but with a menu of options that made Fang's spectral heart skip a beat.
[Available Ancestral Blessings:]
Spiritual Root Enhancement (Single Target): Elevate a descendant's talent. (Cost: 80 CFP)
Resource Scouting: Locate hidden veins or treasures within the clan territory. (Cost: 50 CFP)
Pure-Yang Body (Unique Constitution): Grant a descendant an explosive, sun-aligned physique. (Cost: 100 CFP)
Ancestral Dream: Commmunicate directly with a descendant. (Cost: 10 CFP)
Fang looked at the "Pure-Yang Body." He knew what that meant. In the Azure Province, a special constitution was the mark of a True Genius. A person with such a body could cultivate three times faster than a normal person and possessed a natural resistance to yin-aligned poisons and illusions.
He looked at Lin Chen. The boy was the only one in the entire family who truly cared about Fang's legacy. The others were busy dividing the furniture.
"Chen is the spark," Fang decided. "If he can become a blaze, the family might survive the night."
[System! Spend 100 CFP! Grant Lin Chen the Pure-Yang Body!]
[Confirmed. Commencing Bloodline Reconstruction.]
Fang watched as a beam of golden light, invisible to the mortal eye, shot out from his memorial tablet and struck Lin Chen square in the chest.
The boy let out a strangled cry and collapsed. His skin turned a bright, angry red, and steam began to rise from his pores. Inside his body, his mediocre spiritual roots were being bathed in the essence of the sun. The stagnant, thin Qi in his meridians began to boil, burning away the impurities that had held him back for years.
"Grandfather... help me..." Chen wheezed, clutching at his throat.
"Endure it, brat!" Fang shouted, hovering over him. "This is the pain of becoming a dragon! Don't you dare pass out!"
[System Notification: Bloodline Reconstruction Complete.]
[Descendant Lin Chen has acquired the 'Pure-Yang Body'.]
[Spiritual Root upgraded from 'Low-Grade' to 'Mid-Grade (Evolving)'.]
[Cultivation Level: Breakthrough! 3rd Layer -> 5th Layer Qi Condensation.]
Lin Chen gasped, his eyes flying open. They were no longer dull; a faint, golden light flickered in his pupils. He sat up, staring at his hands. He felt... powerful. The Qi in the room, which used to feel like a heavy fog he could barely breathe, now rushed into his body like a thirsty river.
"What... what happened?" Chen whispered.
He didn't have time to ponder. The heavy gates of the ancestral hall were kicked open.
"Lin Chen! Stop hiding in the dark and come out!"
A man in a black robe stepped into the hall. It was Zhang Hu, the third son of the Zhang Patriarch. He was at the 8th Layer of Qi Condensation, and he carried a heavy iron mace that hummed with malicious energy. Behind him stood four guards, all smirking.
"The Zhang Clan is here for the deed to the mine," Zhang Hu said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "Your grandfather is cold, and your family is weak. If you sign the papers now, we might let you keep the house. If not... well, a funeral hall is a great place for a massacre."
Fang Lin, floating behind his tablet, narrowed his eyes. "You want to massacre my family in my own house? You've got guts, little pig."
Fang looked at the System. He had 0 CFP left, but a new notification appeared.
[Mission Triggered: Defend the Ancestral Hall.]
[Reward: 200 CFP, Skill: 'Spectral Pressure'.]
"Chen," Fang whispered, focusing his will. "Pick up your sword. The Zhangs are not guests. They are fertilizer for our garden."
Lin Chen heard the voice. It was deep, ancient, and filled with a familiar, gruff warmth. He looked at the memorial tablet, and for a second, he saw the shimmering silhouette of his grandfather.
The fear in the boy's heart didn't vanish, but it was buried under a sudden, roaring heat. He stood up, unsheathing a rusted iron sword from the rack.
"The Lin Clan," Chen said, his voice vibrating with the new power in his lungs, "does not sign papers for dogs."
Zhang Hu laughed, raising his mace. "Then you'll die first!"
Fang Lin watched with a grim smile. The 200-chapter legend of the Lin Clan was about to be written in Zhang blood.