Lord of the dead: Exiled by my sect

The Throne Beneath the Graves

The colossal skeletal hand did not merely catch Li Tian; it intercepted him with the force of a falling meteor.

CRASH!

The massive, pale fingers—each one carved from what looked like the fused ribcages of ancient giants—snapped shut around his broken torso. The sudden deceleration sent a violent shockwave through his body, rattling his fractured ribs and forcing a ragged gasp of agony from his lungs. Yet, the expected impact of shattering against the stone floor never came.

Instead, a suffocating, absolute silence enveloped him. The howling winds of the upper mountain vanished instantly, replaced by a stagnant, freezing pressure that felt like being submerged in liquid ice.

Suspended in the palm of the titanic construct, Li Tian hung helplessly as the hand began to descend. It lowered him deeper and deeper into the primordial dark, moving with a smooth, terrifying speed. As the upper world completely faded into memory, an eerie, sickly green luminescence began to flicker far below.

It was not the warm glow of fire, nor was it the gentle light of spiritual crystals. It was the bioluminescent shimmer of countless eyes. Millions of them.

Li Tian forced his blurred vision to focus, a cold sweat breaking out across his neck despite the freezing temperature. In every direction, lining the jagged, unseen walls of the abyssal chasm, pale figures stood shoulder to shoulder. There were phantoms of ancient warriors clad in rusted armor, dead cultivators still holding shattered swords, forgotten kings wearing crowns of bone, and monstrous skeletal beasts large enough to swallow entire mountains.

Every single one of them was staring directly at him. Their collective gaze carried an oppressive, suffocating weight that would have driven an ordinary mortal insane. Yet, none of them moved. None dared to breathe or step forward. They stood in absolute, petrified reverence, as if fearing the very air surrounding the giant hand that carried him.

BOOM!

The skeletal hand finally reached the basin of the abyss, planting itself onto a floor of polished black obsidian. The impact caused the entire subterranean world to tremble violently.

The fingers uncoiled, dumping Li Tian unceremoniously onto the freezing stone. The physical shock racked his broken body, and for a long moment, he could do nothing but press his cheek against the cold rock, gasping for air that tasted of ancient dust and copper.

Using the last remaining embers of his willpower, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked ahead. His breath caught in his throat.

An immense palace loomed out of the green fog. No, a palace was too small a word. This was a grand sepulcher built for a god. Towering pillars of black, light-absorbing stone stretched upward into the ceilingless void. Chains thicker than ancient redwood trees hung down from the darkness above, groaning under their own immense weight. Cutting through the obsidian floor were cracked pathways where rivers of glowing, emerald-green yin energy flowed like molten plasma, casting long, twisting shadows across the walls.

At the center of this terrifying monument stood a throne. It was a monolithic structure carved entirely from the fused, calcified skeletons of dozens of ancient dragons, their jaws frozen in silent, eternal roars.

And sitting upon that throne was a corpse.

The figure wore ancient, battle-worn black armor that seemed to drink the ambient green light. Its flesh had long since decayed into dust, leaving behind a pristine, bone-white skeleton. Yet, even in death, the corpse radiated a palpable, suffocating pressure that bypassed the physical body and gripped Li Tian's very soul. The aura was immense—far eclipsing the Nascent Soul pressure of the Heavenly Sword Sect’s Master. It was the presence of a being that had once looked down upon the heavens themselves.

Then, the dead eyes opened.

Two brilliant, crimson flames erupted within the hollow sockets of the skull.

RUMBLE!

The entire palace shook as the crimson light flared. Instantly, the millions of phantoms lining the abyss fell to their knees, bowing so low their foreheads scraped the stone. The mountain-sized beasts lowered their heads in absolute submission. Li Tian felt the blood in his veins turn to solid ice as a voice rumbled across the vast hall, echoing not in his ears, but directly inside his mind.

“I have waited ten thousand years.”

The corpse slowly rose from its throne of dragon bone. Every micro-movement of its skeletal frame sent a visible ripple of dark energy through the air, cracking the obsidian floor beneath its feet.

“Ten thousand years for a successor worthy of the blood.”

Li Tian trembled, his teeth chattering from the supernatural chill. His shattered cultivation base made even the act of holding his head up feel like lifting a mountain. “You…” His voice was a raspy, pathetic whisper. “Who are you?”

The skeletal ruler stared down at him, its jaw unhinging slightly in what could only be described as a horrifying, humorless smile.

“I am the first Lord of the Dead.”

BOOM!

The title struck Li Tian’s consciousness like a physical blow. Even as a lowly disciple, he had read the forbidden texts hidden in the back of the sect's library. He knew the legends of a name erased from history—a tyrannical sovereign so powerful that an alliance of nine immortal sects and three divine empires had to unite just to seal him away. A monster whose very name could stop a child from crying across three continents.

But the records swore he had been annihilated.

The corpse seemed to read the chaotic thoughts racing through Li Tian’s mind.

“They shattered my mortal flesh,” the crimson flames in its eyes flared with a vengeful, undying heat. “But they could not touch my legacy. They could not kill the dark.”

Before Li Tian could process the words, thousands of fine, pitch-black chains exploded from the shadows beneath the throne.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The iron links whipped through the air, wrapping tightly around his wrists, his ankles, his torso, and his neck. They hoisted him into the air, pinning him spread-eagle in front of the skeletal lord. The metal burned with a freezing heat, searing through his clothes and biting into his skin.

“What are you doing?!” Li Tian roared, struggling against the unbreakable restraints.

The Lord of the Dead ignored his screams. Slowly, a single, bone-white finger raised, pointing directly at the space between Li Tian’s eyebrows.

“You carry a burning hatred. You carry the bitter taste of betrayal. You carry the primal will to survive.” The crimson flames burned so bright they cast a bloody hue over the entire chamber. “And most importantly, boy… you have absolutely nothing left to lose.”

The finger touched his forehead.

Agony—pure, unadulterated, and blinding—exploded through Li Tian’s entire existence.

“AAAAAHHHHH!”

His scream tore through the palace, echoing off the high pillars. It felt as though rivers of molten, black lightning were being forcibly pumped into his veins. Every broken bone in his body was violently snapped and repositioned. Every nerve ending was set ablaze with dark energy. The vast reservoirs of yin energy flowing through the palace suddenly rose, forming a massive vortex that poured directly into his chest. The torment was so absolute that his consciousness fractured, stretching a few seconds into what felt like a century of continuous torture.

Then, deep within his lower abdomen, something shattered.

It was not his body, but the invisible, structural cage of his ruined cultivation. The dull, useless fragments of his destroyed dantian began to glow with a dangerous, abyssal black light.

Li Tian’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. It was a medical impossibility in the cultivation world. His shattered dantian wasn't just healing; it was being completely overwritten.

The golden, righteous foundation of the Heavenly Sword Sect was entirely erased. In its place, a violent, spinning black vortex materialized—a core of absolute void that hungrily devoured the ambient death energy of the abyss.

The Death Core.

The moment the core fully formed, the entire Abyss of Ten Thousand Graves erupted into a frenzy. Millions of ghosts wailed in a synchronized, deafening chorus. The mountains groaned, and ancient, sealed tombs buried deep beneath the earth burst open. Across the endless expanses of the graveyard, ancient, long-dead things began to twitch, awakening from their eternal slumber.

The first Lord of the Dead let out a booming, rattling laugh—a sound that had not been heard in ten millennia. “Success!”

But as the laugh faded, a sharp CRACK echoed from the armor. Li Tian looked up through his blurred vision. The pristine white bones of the ancient ruler were rapidly turning to grey ash, crumbling away as the crimson flames in his eyes began to flicker and die. The ancient sovereign had used the very last remnant of his soul to forge Li Tian's new core. His time was finally up.

Yet, before the skull dissolved into nothingness, the Lord of the Dead leaned forward, his fading voice dropping into a dangerous whisper that made Li Tian's blood run cold.

“The treasure your hypocritical sect accused you of stealing…” The ash began to scatter into the wind. “…it was never in their vaults, boy. It was hidden inside the seal of your own soul all along.”

Li Tian froze, his mind reeling. “What? What do you mean?!”

But there was no answer. The Lord of the Dead vanished entirely, his armor clattering loudly against the dragon-bone throne before reducing to a pile of silent, grey dust.

An eerie silence returned to the palace. Then—

CRACK!

A sound like breaking crystal echoed from deep within Li Tian’s own chest. A blinding, majestic golden light suddenly erupted from the depths of his soul, tearing through the dark energy of the palace. It was a holy, piercing radiance—the exact same light described in the sect's most sacred legends.

The Heaven-Breaking Jade. It had been sealed within his bloodline since birth.

And at that exact microsecond, far above the clouds, inside the grand pavilions of the Heavenly Sword Sect, an ancient brass alarm bell that had remained completely silent for over a thousand years suddenly began to toll.

DONG!

DONG!

DONG!

Every single elder and core disciple froze in absolute horror. Because the ancient law of the sect was absolute: the bell only rang for one reason. The foundational treasure of the founder had just been awakened, and someone had successfully forced it to recognize them as master.