It began with pain. Again.
But this time—it welcomed him.
The marrow was a curse and a blessing. It howled in his blood, clawed at his bones, and yet… he craved more.
The whispers wouldn't stop.
"One is not enough.""Eat deeper. Learn faster. Or perish slower."
The darkness that had once terrified him now felt like an old friend. A womb of hatred and rebirth.
He no longer felt like a man buried alive.
He felt like something being forged.
From the damp walls of his earthen tomb, the bones called to him—not just as sustenance, but as scripture. Each shard carried a fragment of will. A ghost of memory. The echo of a life ended in violence or betrayal.
The second bone he swallowed showed him a battlefield.
Charred earth. Thunder crashing. A lone man standing atop a mountain of corpses, laughing as he burned his own cultivation to become a living weapon.
"This is the Way of Ruin. Take it."
He did.
The third bone belonged to a woman who once slaughtered an entire sect for mocking her crippled dantian. She forged her own path using broken meridians and pure spite.
"This is the Path of Blood. Take it."
He devoured that too.
Each bite rewrote him.
His skeleton thickened. His muscles tore and reformed, weaving dark marrow into sinew. His organs liquefied, restructured, evolved.
He wasn't sure what realm he'd entered—because this wasn't part of any orthodox path.
This was something older. Forgotten.Or maybe… buried deliberately.
"You are walking the Bone Scripture.""You will never be human again."
He smiled through cracked lips.
"Good."
Above the grave, the winds changed.
The cemetery had always been quiet. Forgotten by time and the living.
But tonight, even the crows avoided it.
Lanterns at the gravekeeper's shack flickered… then died.
A scent like burning incense and rotting meat slithered through the trees.
The little girl who'd once seen the crack in the stone had returned. But this time, she wasn't alone.
Three men in black robes stood at the edge of the graveyard, cloaked in silence. Emissaries from the Sect of Sacred Burial. Grave Readers. Bone Conjurers.
Watchers of forbidden tombs.
"It's stirring.""The tomb we sealed a thousand years ago… something's waking inside."
One of them held a bone fragment in his palm. It shivered violently.
"He's eating them," the man whispered. "He's waking the Bone Scripture."
The youngest turned pale. "That's not possible. We scattered the remains. We sealed the chants."
The leader's voice was hollow. "Then why do I hear them now?"
Below, in the tomb—
His heart no longer beat with mortal rhythm.
BOOM.BOOM.BOOM.
Each pulse summoned bones. Not like corpses—but like beasts. They crawled through the dirt toward him, eager to be devoured.
He didn't hesitate.
He opened his mouth.
The fourth bone gave him night-vision. A socketless skull whispered truths into his ear. A single tooth crawled into his spine and fused with his soul-sea.
He laughed, spitting blood.
This was power.Not gifted by sects.Not written in manuals.
It was earned.Taken.Eaten.
His name had once been Ren Zhe.
A disciple of Red Orchid Peak. A core student of the Midnight Sky Sect. A prodigy.
A man betrayed by his brothers.
But now—
He was something else.
He meditated for what felt like months.
In reality, only a week passed.
He didn't eat. Didn't sleep.
He only consumed.
And the cultivation realm within him shattered barriers not known to the living.
⚡ Bone Vein⚡ Ash Meridian⚡ Blood Root⚡ Soul Husk
These weren't steps in any known path. They were abominations, stitched from marrow and malice.
And then… the bones fell silent.
The darkness trembled.
A new voice echoed inside his core. Not a whisper—but a bell. Cold. Clear. Ancient.
"You have eaten enough to be noticed."
"Now, choose."
From the blackness, three phantoms emerged:
The Bone Emperor — a skeleton wreathed in golden flame, who had once ruled 10,000 legions with a single glance.
The Thousand-Fanged Saint — a cannibal cultivator, mouth split ear to ear, who ascended by betraying every sect she joined.
The Ash Warden — a blind monk who burned cities with prayer, whose bones still radiated divine wrath.
Each one bowed.
Each one offered a pact.
"Take my name. Bear my legacy. Walk my path."
He stood in the grave. Naked. Scarred. Unbroken.
Eyes burning with a hunger that could split the heavens.
And he said—
"Why not take all three?"
The tomb howled.
The pact shattered—then reformed.
The legacies clashed, tearing into each other.
And then… they merged.
His soul split.His mind burned.His body cracked open.
But he didn't die.
He grew fangs.
For the first time in 10,000 years—
Something new was born.
Far away, in the Grand Midnight Sky Sect—
A jade crystal shattered on the Sect Master's altar.
Blood exploded from his nose.
He staggered back, horrified.
"No," he gasped. "That tomb… that failure—he's still alive?!"
Back in the cemetery—
The final piece of stone split apart.
The grave cracked open.
A single pale hand rose from the dirt, fingers curling into a fist.
And far in the distance…
The bells of the dead began to toll.