Stinking of rot, the Shadow-Leopard’s breath hit Lin Tian’s face like a physical blow.
Black fluid dripped from its exposed fangs, sizzling against the damp, cold mud of the corpse pit.
He gripped the leather pouch in his bloodied palm, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Memories of his past life flashed behind his eyes, vivid and agonizing.
Back on Earth, he had been nothing but a cog in a corporate machine.
Fluorescent lights, endless spreadsheets, cold coffee, and the sudden, crushing chest pain that had sent him spiraling into darkness at his office desk.
He had died alone in a cubicle, his life wasted on a company that didn’t even know his middle name.
Waking up in this dying world had felt like a cruel joke.
He had been thrown into the body of a discarded senior brother, beaten, broken, and left to rot by those he called family.
Sect Master Zhao’s cold face sneered in his mind, alongside Mo Fan’s mocking grin as he pushed him over the edge of the ravine.
This cultivation world was no different from his corporate job.
It was just a larger, more violent machine that chewed up the weak and spat them out as fuel for the strong.
Now, a mutated predator stood between him and whatever miserable second chance he had been granted.
Growling low, the beast tensed its muscular thighs, preparing to launch its three-hundred-pound frame.
Thick, corrupted veins pulsed along its ribcage, glowing with a faint, sickly purple light that spoke of demonic pollution.
Saliva, dark and acidic, dripped from its jaws, hissing as it struck the wet stones below.
Red eyes, twin pools of crimson malice, locked onto his trembling form.
Death was seconds away, and his body was wholly unprepared to meet it.
His broken meridians screamed in protest as he tried to shift his weight.
Hot blood pooled in the back of his throat, tasting of iron and copper, a grim reminder of his shattered cultivation.
If he died here, he would just be another nameless heap of flesh in the outer disciples’ dumping ground.
He refused to let that happen.
Anger, hot and sharp, flared through his cold veins.
He would not die as a slave to this system, nor as a snack for a rabid beast.
Clenching his jaw, he forced his trembling fingers to tighten around the neck of the Primordial Pouch.
Its dark, weathered leather felt strangely warm, almost vibrating with an unnatural, hungry pulse.
A bizarre sensation washed over him—a telepathic whisper of absolute, insatiable greed.
Hunger radiating from the artifact matched his own desperation.
Sudden motion shattered the heavy silence.
Leaping across the narrow pit, the beast descended upon him, its claws outstretched to rip his throat open.
Gravity seemed to slow down.
Lin Tian did not try to dodge, knowing his broken knees would never support the movement.
Instead, he leaned forward, throwing his entire weight into a desperate, final gamble.
"Come on, then," he hissed through blood-stained teeth.
Shoving his arm straight out, he aimed the open mouth of the Primordial Pouch directly at the center of the beast’s gaping maw.
Time snapped back to its brutal, unforgiving pace.
Just as the leopard’s teeth were about to tear through his forearm, a horrifying sound erupted from the leather bag.
A high-pitched, screeching wail, like a thousand dying souls screaming in unison, echoed through the ravine.
Cold wind whipped through the pit as the pouch’s opening dilated, defying every law of physics.
It stretched far beyond its physical limits, transforming into a dark, bottomless abyss lined with rows of translucent, needle-like teeth.
He jammed the screaming artifact directly into the descending beast’s throat.
Flesh tore, but not his own.
Darkness exploded from the mouth of the pouch, ballooning into a mass of absolute void that swallowed the beast's snout.
Next came its muscular shoulders, forced into an opening no larger than a teacup.
Desperately thrashing, the leopard dug its back claws deep into the muddy earth, trying to pull away, but the suction was absolute.
Dark satisfaction mingled with his terror.
He held the bag firm, his fingers digging into the leather as the entity dragged the entire three-hundred-pound monster into its impossibly small interior.
Wet, grinding noises echoed from within the pouch.
Bones snapped like dry twigs under immense pressure.
Flesh was crushed, liquefied, and digested in a matter of seconds.
Grotesque and violent, the consumption sent a shudder down his spine, but he could not look away.
With a final, sickening gulp, the leopard vanished entirely.
Silence descended on the pit once more, broken only by Lin Tian’s ragged breathing.
He stared at the small leather pouch in his hand, which had returned to its original, unassuming size, completely unstained by blood.
Suddenly, a cold, mechanical voice echoed inside his mind.
[Target consumed: Corrupted Shadow-Leopard. Level 1 Beast.]
[Refining soul and flesh... Converting to pure spiritual energy.]
[Initiating meridian reconstruction.]
White-hot agony exploded in his chest.
Lin Tian gasped, falling to his knees as a torrent of pure, unadulterated power flooded his broken body.
His shattered meridians, once resembling dry, cracked riverbeds, were forcibly ripped open and rebuilt.
Sooty, black impurities oozed from his pores, smelling of old copper and decay.
Liquid fire rushed through his limbs, knitting each damaged pathway back together.
He clenched his fists, burying his face in the mud to muffle his screams as the energy rebuilt his flesh from the inside out.
Slowly, the agonizing heat gave way to a cool, refreshing current.
Cool energy flowed smoothly through his newly formed pathways, pooling in his lower abdomen.
His breathing steadied, his heartbeat slowing to a calm, measured rhythm.
Constant, dull aches in his chest vanished, replaced by a profound sense of lightness.
[Reconstruction complete.]
[Cultivation Rank updated: Qi Refining Level 1.]
He stared down at his hands, marveling at the sudden strength.
Pale, sickly skin was gone, replaced by a healthy, firm texture.
Clenching his fist, he felt a raw, physical strength he had never possessed in either of his lives.
He was no longer a dying mortal.
Yet, a chilling realization settled deep in his gut.
He looked at the Primordial Pouch resting in his palm.
This was no ordinary treasure.
To survive, to keep his meridians from collapsing again, he would have to feed it constantly.
A faint sound broke his train of thought.
Footsteps echoed from the top of the pit.
Several pairs of heavy boots were crunching through the gravel at the top of the ravine.
Sharp senses, newly restored and highly attuned to his surroundings, picked up the vibration of their movements.
Murmurs of lazy, arrogant voices drifted down into the darkness.
"Just dump the body and let's get back to the tavern," a voice grumbled.
"Sect Master Zhao wants the discard pit cleared by morning," another replied.
Yellow light flickered against the damp stone walls of the ravine.
Torches flickered, drawing closer as they carried the fresh corpse of another failed disciple.
Lin Tian stood up slowly.
He wiped the black residue from his face, his eyes narrowing in the darkness.
His heart beat with a steady, dangerous rhythm.
As he stands up, his newly restored Qi senses a patrol of Myriad Dao Sect outer disciples returning to the pit to throw more bodies, their torches illuminating his standing figure.