Oblivion_Ink

"Deaf to the world but chosen by the planet, a boy becomes the last hope against cosmic devourers."

Born without hearing, Lin Moyan navigates life through vibrations—until the day he feels the living planet Verdant Abyss scream. Offered a symbiotic seed that grants him power in exchange for becoming its voice, Moyan discovers:  

- His father's disappearance is tied to an ancient rebellion  
- His clan's hatred hides a terrifying secret  
- The galaxy's overlords are coming to harvest his world  

Now, as his body mutates from the seed's power, Moyan must:  
✓ Master vibration-based cultivation  
✓ Unite warring tribes, sects and primordial beasts
✓ Break the celestial chain binding his world  

Before the Harvest Fleet turns his planet to dust.

Verdant Abyss Chronicles

Jian Luo's blood smelled like iron and lightning.

Moyan caught him before he hit the ground, the sonic dagger slipping from Jian Luo's fingers. The harvester's claw had gone clean through—Moyan could see the jungle's sickly green light through the hole it left.

"Damn," Jian Luo coughed, red flecking his lips. "That... actually hurts."

Haiyu was already moving, her knives flashing as she severed the harvester's limb. The creature didn't scream. It didn't even seem to notice, its remaining claws still reaching for Moyan with mechanical precision.

Yanmei's arrow took it in the eye socket. The explosion of static that followed wasn't satisfying.

"Leave him," the Rootheart urged. "The ship—"

Moyan pressed his palm over Jian Luo's wound. The gravity knife's hum changed pitch, vibrating through both their bodies.

"You don't... get to die... yet," Moyan gritted out.

Jian Luo laughed weakly. "Since when... do you give orders?"

The voidship's interior was colder than death.

Moyan half-carried, half-dragged Jian Luo through ruptured corridors, Haiyu and Yanmei covering their retreat. The walls pulsed with the same bioluminescent growths as the jungle outside, but here they formed patterns—circuits, neural pathways, something alive and thinking.

Haiyu's fingers brushed a carved mark on the bulkhead. "Your father's trail."

They followed the scratches like breadcrumbs, deeper into the ship's heart. The harvesters didn't follow. They clustered at the threshold, their carapaces clicking in unison.

"They can't enter," the Rootheart murmured. "This place remembers."

Jian Luo's breath came in wet hitches. "Great. Haunted... spaceship. Just... perfect."

The chamber at the ship's core wasn't meant for human eyes.

Walls curved inward like a skull's interior, every surface etched with spiraling equations that made Moyan's head throb. At the center floated a sphere of black fluid, suspended in a gravity field gone wrong—it inverted light, showing glimpses of things that couldn't exist.

And pinned to it like a butterfly was Lin Kainan.

Moyan's father looked both ancient and ageless, his body half-consumed by the same roots that now grew in Moyan's spine. One hand still clutched a gravity staff, its tip embedded in the sphere. His remaining eye opened as they entered.

"Took you long enough," his lips shaped.

Haiyu made a sound Moyan had never heard from her—something between a sob and a war cry.

Jian Luo blinked blood from his eyes. "Well... shit."

Then the ship shuddered, the equations on the walls rewriting themselves. Kainan's hand spasmed around the staff.

"No more time," he signed with stiff fingers. "The Serpent's waking."

Moyan stepped forward, but his father's glare stopped him cold.

Haiyu didn't hesitate. She took the staff in both hands.

The scream that followed wasn't human.

BROKEN CHORUS