Chapter 4 – Whispering Shrines and Silent Death
The morning mist clung to Shen Zian's robes as he descended into the valley of ancient stone. Each step took him deeper into silence. Not a single bird chirped. No beasts prowled. Even the wind dared not howl.
It wasn't natural.
It was reverent.
The Silent Shrine had long been thought lost, buried beneath the expansion of mortal clans. But here it stood—crumbling, wild, forgotten by man but not by the ancient qi that pulsed faintly within its bones.
Zian approached a broken pillar etched with runes that had faded with time. He reached out and brushed away the moss, revealing the silhouette of a beast—twin-headed, with spiraling horns and wings that stretched across the stone.
Not a beast known in the current age.
Not even one he had read about.
But his core flared as if it remembered.
"You've seen this before," Zian murmured, eyes narrowing. "Through the panther's bloodline… you know these shrines."
He stepped deeper into the ruin.
As he crossed a threshold of shattered tiles, the temperature dropped sharply. The corpse talisman at his neck pulsed—slow, cold thuds against his skin. In the center of the courtyard, half-buried in stone and ash, was a black altar. Around it stood five stone beast statues, each in different states of decay: one headless, another shattered at the chest.
But all five faced inward. Toward the altar.
As if waiting.
Zian approached, cautious. Something here was alive—not physically, but spiritually. His beast core thrummed louder, and the corpse talisman flared in eerie resonance.
He placed his hand on the altar.
The air shattered.
A shockwave of spirit pressure slammed into him, knocking him to his knees.
His vision darkened.
And then the world changed.
He stood in a vast jungle under blood-red skies. Towering beasts roared in the distance—creatures of legend and nightmare. At the center of it all stood a titanic horned beast with silver eyes, cloaked in black fire and crimson mist.
Zian couldn't move. He felt like a speck beneath its gaze.
The beast looked down at him.
And spoke—not with words, but with intent.
"He who devours our cores… shall walk our path."
Its voice echoed in his soul.
"The path of Sovereignty lies through beasts, not men."
Zian clutched his head. The beast's voice clawed through his mind, tearing open fragments of knowledge buried deep in his blood—techniques, instincts, oaths from another era.
"You are the first in ten thousand years to be chosen."
"But the price… is everything."
Zian screamed as a flood of ancient memory burned into him—runes of beast core refinement, the structure of the Feralsoul Core, diagrams of sacrificial binding, and—most of all—a forbidden cultivation method:
Devourer's Pact.
A cultivation path that absorbed, refined, and fused the beast cores of slain creatures—not just for strength, but for inheritance. Memory. Instinct. Bloodline.
And with each core… the line between man and beast blurred.
The vision shattered.
Zian gasped awake on the altar, sweat soaking his robes.
But the shrine was no longer silent.
Qi danced in the air—primordial and wild. The beast statues had begun to glow faintly, and deep within the altar, a small crystalline orb now pulsed with a pale silver light.
He crawled toward it, grasping it carefully.
The moment he touched it, he understood.
This was a Primeval Beast Core—not from a mutated creature, but from a true ancient species. The kind that existed before humans walked the earth.
His fingers trembled.
It wasn't large, but the purity… was terrifying.
This alone could boost a mortal cultivator two entire realms.
But for him—it was a chance to evolve again.
"I shouldn't…" he whispered.
Even the beast core inside him shuddered, as if uncertain.
But then he remembered Shen Liang's smirk.
His father's cold words.
Being called trash.
His eyes hardened.
"I didn't come this far to hesitate."
He placed the orb against his chest—and let it in.
Pain. Fire. Claws. Thunder.
His veins exploded with energy. The beast core inside him roared like a furnace. The Primeval Core was resisting, wild and ancient, but his body—transformed, mutated—held fast.
And then—
Fusion.
The orb shattered. Its energy became part of him.
His heart skipped a beat.
And then kept beating.
Stronger. Louder. Beastlike.
When the light faded, he stood—barely recognizing himself.
His eyes now had golden slits. His nails, slightly longer, faintly clawed. His senses… hyperaware. He could hear ants crawling in the trees outside. Smell rot beneath the soil.
And he knew.
He had taken a step no human had dared in ten millennia.
He was no longer walking a human cultivation path.
He was carving a new one. One forged in blood, claw, and forbidden legacy.
Zian turned from the altar. His strength surged. The shrine behind him began to crumble—its purpose fulfilled.
But from the treeline… something watched.
Something hungry.
And far above, deep within the clouds, a flash of divine lightning whispered.
The heavens had noticed.