"Lin... Lin Jin?" The whisper started from a minor noble in the back and spread like wildfire. "That’s the cripple? The one who died?" "Look at his eyes! That’s no human!" "Is he a ghost? A zombie?" Patriarch Lin Xiao stood frozen, his mind racing. The plan was ruined. The image of the perfect family was shattered. There was only one way to salvage this: Denial. "LIES!" Lin Xiao roared, his voice shaking the banners. He pointed a trembling finger at Lin Jin. "That is not my son! My son died of illness weeks ago! This is a demon possessing his corpse! A vile creature from the swamp trying to slander our noble house!" The crowd murmured. It was a plausible lie. Lin Jin looked monstrous, with his grey skin and metallic eyes. "Elder Zhang!" Lin Xiao turned to the Heavenly Sword Sect expert, pleading. "This creature desecrates my ancestors! Please, slay this evil!" Elder Zhang narrowed his eyes. He sensed no normal Spirit Qi from Lin Jin—only a dense, cold void that felt like deat

The wind screamed in Lin Jin’s ears, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the pulsing alarm in his soul. Above his head, the Mark of the Heavenly Sword—a twenty-foot-tall projection of a glowing red sword—pierced the sky. It was visible for miles. It was a lighthouse, and he was the ship trying to hide in a storm. Lin Jin leaped from the city walls of Jiang City, landing in the rice paddies outside with a heavy thud. The mud exploded outward. "Three of them," the Entity warned, its voice tight. "Twelve o'clock high. Coming in hot." Lin Jin didn't look back. He burst into a sprint. His new Stage 4: Black-Steel Ashbone body was a marvel of biomechanics. Every step he took shattered the ground, propelling him forward at speeds that blurred the landscape. He wasn't running; he was tearing through the air. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! Three streaks of light—one azure, one gold, one crimson—tore through the clouds behind h

The tunnel was damp, dripping with a luminescent green slime that smelled like battery acid. Lin Jin walked in silence, his boots crunching on gravel. The Blackbone Greatsword was sheathed on his back, wrapped in the tatters of his grey robe. "This place..." the Entity sniffed. "It smells of desperation. And old copper." The tunnel opened up. Lin Jin stopped. His silver eyes widened slightly. He wasn't in a cave anymore. He was standing on a balcony overlooking a colossal underground cavern. Below him lay a city. It wasn't a city of stone or wood. It was a sprawling, chaotic shantytown built entirely from the wreckage of the Ancient War. Houses made of crushed chariot hulls. Bridges made of giant, rusted sword blades. Towers constructed from the ribcages of dead behemoths. The entire cavern was lit by the pulsating Green Light he had seen earlier—massive clusters of "Corpse-Fire Crystals" growing on the

The gates of the arena ground open with a screech of rusted metal. Lin Jin stepped out into the blinding glare of the Corpse-Fire Crystals. The noise was a physical wall—thousands of mutants, scavengers, and criminals screaming for blood. "AND IN THE RED CORNER!" the announcer’s voice boomed from loudspeakers grafted onto the arena walls. "THE REIGNING NIGHTMARE! THE MAN WHO TURNED FIFTY FIGHTERS INTO HAMBURGER MEAT! GIVE IT UP FOR... THE GRINDER!" BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. The ground shook. From the opposite gate, a monstrosity emerged. It was barely human. It was a ten-foot-tall hulk of welded scrap metal. Its legs were hydraulic pistons. Its head was encased in a diver's helmet covered in spikes. But its most terrifying features were its arms. They weren't hands. They were massive, industrial tunnel-boring drills, spinning with a high-pitched whine that set teeth on edge. "MEAT!" The Grinder roared, his voice amplified b

The four Centurions moved with perfect, calculated synchronization. HMMMM-SNAP. Four plasma blades ignited simultaneously, casting a harsh violet light over the white porcelain throne room. These weren't clumsy brawlers like the Grinder; these were ancient war machines, programmed with martial arts data from the Golden Era. "Dissect," the Gear King commanded lazily, leaning back on his throne. The Centurions blurred. Two attacked low, sweeping at Lin Jin’s legs. Two attacked high, aiming to decapitate. There was no room to dodge. Lin Jin didn't try. CLANG! HISS! He slammed the Blackbone Greatsword vertically into the ground, using it as a shield. The two lower blades struck the obsidian slab. The heat was intense enough to melt steel, but the black bone merely smoked, absorbing the thermal energy. For the high attacks, Lin Jin raised his left arm. The Shroud of Silent Dust rippled, ha